


As Savage As Love

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-16
Updated: 2010-05-06
Packaged: 2017-10-08 00:50:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 51,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Spoilers/Warnings:</b> This begins during DH (minus the Epilogue of Doom). It starts off slow and then rolls on downhill from there: Physical violence, sexual violence, all flavors of con (non con, dub con, coercion, actual con) and mindfuckery in general. It's unrepentant Death Eater!Marcus and captured spy!Katie. You have been duly warned...<br/><b>Summary:</b> Katie Bell thought sneaking back into England from exile would allow her to help the Resistance more easily. She never thought it would help her disappear into the very clutches of the enemy she wanted to fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unwelcome Visitor

_ We both know the power of pain,  
We get back up and start it again...  
Nothing can be as savage as love,  
One taste is never enough._  
"Dreaming" by BT

  
The Bells had left England shortly after Katie graduated from Hogwarts. They were officially on extended holiday, but Katie knew that she had been turned into an expatriate. Though her father had been an Auror, even he no longer felt welcome in Wizarding England. He had looked into the incident with the locket when Katie was first brought to St. Mungo's for spell damage, and had been blocked at every turn. When he pushed harder, one of his superiors idly commented that it would be a shame if Harold left his wife Clara a widow. The implication was clear, and he dropped his investigation. Still, it rankled. He was supposed to be enforcing the law, not helping the Death Eaters break it.

But Clara was a Muggleborn witch, and had been sorted into Hufflepuff when she was in school. She didn't have the temperament for double dealings in the atmosphere that starting to seep into the community. She still felt uneasy whenever she thought about the first war against the Dark Lord, the senseless violence and horrible things she had suffered when visiting her Muggle cousins one afternoon. Harold hadn't known about it until hours later, when St. Mungo's had seen fit to contact him as next of kin. The Aurors on the scene were too busy mopping up the scene with the Obliviators' help. Death Eaters had stormed the little Muggle village for sport, and Clara had been confused for one. While her cousins watched helplessly, she had been held aloft by spells, her unborn baby crudely cut from her swollen belly. The baby had only been six months along and hadn't been able to survive the damage. Katie would have had a younger brother if not for the attack, and Clara couldn't have any other children afterward. It had been her urging to leave England when the climate shifted; she couldn't tolerate the fear that something similar might happen to Katie if she stayed behind.

Harold caved to Clara's wishes; she had always seemed so fragile after that attack, and he had never wanted to stress her overmuch. Katie bristled against the move, but caved to her mother's wishes as well.

She lasted a month before she chafed under exile.

Katie felt like an utter heel as her mother began to sob. Harold understood the urge to return, to do something to help her friends. Something had to be done, and the Gryffindor in him was proud of the way she was going to stand up for her beliefs. The father in him wanted to pull her back, wanted to warn her against the dangers.

But she had been a casualty already, hovering between life and death for months before her return to Hogwarts. Harold understood how Katie needed to _do something,_ that she needed to regain her sense of self and to help the cause. He wasn't willing to return himself; he had promised Clara he would stay with her, and he was going to honor that promise.

Katie owled the twins first; they had always been in the thick of it, practically Harry Potter's family. They would know where she was needed, how best she could help.

_Floo to the Burrow,_ the twins had written. When Katie did so, she happily found herself surrounded by various Weasleys. "Oi, you're filthy!" said Fred with a grin. "Clean off before Mum gives you a wallop," George added for good measure.

Ignoring them both, Katie caught them both in great big hugs. "I've missed you lot. I didn't want to ask about Angie or Ali or the rest of them..."

"Too right," Fred replied, nodded. He brushed off his shirt and started to brush the ash from Katie's shoulders. "Now's a dangerous time."

"They're talking about changing laws that define Pureblood," George said, brushing off Katie's other shoulder. "If you haven't all four grandparents as wizardborn, you're not Pure anymore. Any less and you're a Half, and if you've none at all you're a Muggleborn."

"But that's ridiculous," Katie said, looking between the twins incredulously. "Half of the world would be Halfblood, then."

"It'll probably pass," Fred began. "But come on, Mum will want to feed you. She always said you were a skinny thing, all knees and elbows."

Katie threw an elbow in question into a twin's side. George yelped and ducked out of the way, yelling "That's sharp, Bell! No fair hurting our side!"

It was rather nice to be folded into the Weasley household. It was mid July, and they were trying to plan something nice to do for Harry's birthday, as well as Bill and Fleur's wedding. Being an only child, Katie thought having such a large family would be a wonderful thing. Her time at Hogwarts was the closest she had come to having such a large family. Katie didn't know much about Harry's family, but apparently they were shite at parties and knew nothing about how to keep him safe past his seventeenth birthday. Even the "rescue" from that household was so hush-hush that Katie didn't even know the particulars about it.

"Well, if you're busy doing this, there's bound to be something to do to help the Order. Are there any other DA members helping out?" Katie insisted.

"Well, there's a couple here and there starting to spy on Ministry officials," George began in a low tone.

"All the ones suspected of being Death Eaters and sympathizers, of course," Fred added. "And there's a taboo on saying You Know Who's name."

"What do you mean?"

"Word is, that's how people are getting tracked down." Fred and George pulled Katie into the backyard. "We've been using our tricks to listen in on meetings they thought we should stay out of," Fred began.

"And you know us, always got to listen," George added. Katie nodded at them, indicating that she was following along.

"Well, they wanted to lock us out of a meeting just two weeks ago, now."

"Some good people have been killed already," George continued, finishing Fred's thought. "And that includes top Aurors and Ministry workers that we _know_ believed Harry."

Katie's father had been one of them, and her face blanched. "So if Dad hadn't left..."

"You're all listed as expats now," Fred said with a nod. "No one knows you're back."

"But us, of course. Probably best that way, or you'd be brought in for questioning and you don't ever get to return."

"But..."

"Some from our year have already gone missing," George told her, voice dropping. "Ali's fine, she's a Pure from a long line of Pures and is smart enough to keep her mouth shut. She's doing some ordinary, boring work besides. Safe enough."

"Angie's a Half," Fred told Katie tightly. "We've had our goodbyes, and she went the expat route, too. I don't think she's coming back, not until this is safer."

That didn't sound like Angelina Johnson, but Katie suspected that there was more to the story, just as there was more to her own story if someone asked. "I'm sorry," she whispered at them, shaking her head. She had been gone a month. How could this have happened so quickly?

"All it takes is for good people to bowl over and do nothing," Fred said, wisely guessing at Katie's thoughts. It had been why the group of them always flew so well together. The twins as beaters knew all three Chasers, and they flew as a unit.

George tugged on the dark brown hair that Katie had put up into a ponytail. "Come on, then. No looking down when Mum sees you. We'll figure out tonight what we can probably do."

"If no one knows I'm here," Katie began, following them back into the house, "then the best way to use me is to put me where no one would think to look."

"Spying, you mean?" George asked.

"Of course," Katie replied just as Fred nodded and said "What else could she mean?"

George exchanged a conspiratorial grin with Fred and Katie. "Rather like sneaking a look at Slytherin plays on the pitch?"

"No one looks twice at the petite girl going by the field," Katie said with a laugh.

"We've always liked how you think, Katie," Fred began. "We'll figure it out after dinner."

There were three primary targets that the twins wanted to keep an eye out for. The Malfoys, the Flints and the Montagues were among the most prominent supporters for You Know Who, and always had been. Other Slytherins were more cautious with how they displayed their support, but the Montagues had been quick to rally around their son's accident with the Vanishing Cabinet as a reason why the populace had to be looked after. Magic run amok could do terrible things, they reasoned, and their poor son remained injured after all this time.

"Bollocks," Katie said, shaking her head. "Neither of you would ever have done anything truly harmful. He probably just needed a good excuse to skive off school."

The twins looked at each other but remained silent. They hadn't _intended_ for there to be long term spell damage, sure. But the fact of the matter was that he wouldn't have splinched himself so terribly if they hadn't hexed him first. Fred was sorriest about that move, and George still liked to say that Montague deserved it.

"Anyway, I'll head off to –"

"Don't tell us," Fred said abruptly. "Report back to any of the Order members if you see them."

"What are you on about?" she asked, looking between the twins.

"Things are getting dangerous," George said, shooting a look at his twin in annoyance. "We're pretty well known as a friend of Harry's, yeah?"

Katie nodded. "Of course. And Ron's his best friend..."

"So we just want to make sure you report back to someone that's less likely to be impersonated by a Death Eater."

Katie looked at them with wide eyes. "Is that how they're getting them?"

"I think so," Fred murmured.

"No proof, of course, but there wouldn't be any," George said grimly.

"Well, how will I know that _they're_ for real, then?" Katie asked.

"See? Didn't I tell you she's a smart one?" Fred told George with a grin.

"That, you did." George turned his grin to Katie. "Still got your DA coin?"

Katie dug it out of her pocket. "Right here."

"It'll stay just as it is if you're with a proper Order member. Anyone questionable, and it'll turn blue or green. It depends if they've got the Mark or not."

"Brilliant," Katie said, grinning at them as she returned it to her pocket. She would have to figure out something to do with it later, to keep it visible but unobtrusive.

"Hermione's been working on a lot of things, the swot," Fred said fondly.

"Good thing she's with us and not them," George added.

"Well, I should probably change and be off, then," Katie told the twins. "I could get this whole plan started, and be back before you go off to get Harry."

"That's what we love about you, Katie. You're always ready to go along with our plans," Fred told her, bumping shoulders playfully with her.

"Stay safe, you," George warned. "No dramatic heroics."

"Nothing we wouldn't do, anyway," Fred amended.

Laughing, Katie headed up to the room Hermione and Ginny were sharing. She had stowed her bag there soon after she arrived, since there wasn't much room in the Burrow. The two other girls were in the backyard, likely making more sarcastic comments about Fleur. She plaited her hair, then changed into black clothing. She caught sight of her charm bracelet, her graduation gift from her mother. Shrinking her DA galleon, she attached it to the bracelet as another charm. She should be able to see the thing change color, and it wasn't so obvious to an outside observer.

She'd heard of Lucius Malfoy's escape from Azkaban while abroad, and didn't think that Malfoy Manor would be easy to get to. Montague's house was likely already under observation by Order members, and there was no point to getting information they already had. That left Flint Manor. She wasn't entirely sure of the location; it was possibly somewhere near Salisbury, given what little she knew of the family. Most Pureblood households had the Wizarding Directory, so Katie looked at the Weasley's copy while no one was looking. It had a listing of all wizards and witches in England, as well as the known apparition coordinates and registered floo connections listed. She memorized the apparition coordinates for Flint Manor, then left the Burrow. If she was caught right at the apparition point, there was no sense in leaving any trace to the Burrow. The Weasleys were already known sympathizers for Harry's cause, and she didn't want to send any further doubt onto them.

It was dark when she arrived at the public apparition point for Flint Manor. It turned out to be on a hill several hundred yards away from the actual Manor gates. Well, she had kept up running and exercises while away. It was quick work to jog toward the gates and start looking for a way through them onto the grounds. She was surprised that there weren't any barrier wards near the gates, but supposed that they were too confident to have them. She vaguely remembered Marcus Flint from school. He had always been a solid wall of muscle and sinew, with chiseled features that hadn't sit quite right together. He'd been called a troll by more than one member of the Gryffindor team, and at the time Katie hadn't thought it to be more than teasing. He had a vicious temper, she remembered. If the rest of his family was the same way, it was more than likely that no one would trespass willingly onto the grounds.

Katie was petite and slim. It wasn't difficult to slip between the bars of the wrought iron fence near dense shrubbery. She could see lights on in various Manor rooms. Many of them didn't even have the curtains drawn, and she could see that there were people moving about in them. She wished she had a broom of some kind, to hover nearby and still have a getaway plan. But she didn't have one and the Weasleys wouldn't have been able to spare one. Katie crept closer to the Manor windows and risked a glance through the glass.

It was a ballroom of some kind, and many of the elite Purebloods in society were there. She caught sight of the Malfoys, easily recognizing Draco's drawn, pinched face. It looked as though he wasn't sleeping well, and she hoped he was feeling guilty for his part in what happened at the school. She recognized a few other faces from the Prophet, though she couldn't understand what everyone seemed to be waiting for. They looked expectantly toward the massive doors leading to the ballroom, at the two men standing in front of them. One looked like Marcus Flint, and one was an older version of him. His father, then. His father nodded at Marcus rather imperiously, and Marcus inclined his head ever so slightly. He opened the doors, stepping through them and then disappearing from sight.

And Voldemort strode into the room, a large coiled snake beside him.

Katie gasped and stepped away from the window, then ducked down beside the stone wall. She had to move somewhere it would be more difficult to find her. She dimly remembered the whispers in Gryffindor Tower about Harry's visions. The whispers told of large snakes, of horrid deaths and utter destruction.

Katie raced along the edge of the building. Maybe there was a way in, a way to figure out what was going on. The Order knew who the Death Eaters were. That wouldn't be helpful. If she could figure out what was going on, why they were all gathered, that had to be important.

She couldn't seem to find an entrance into the Manor other than the locked servants' entrance in the back. She couldn't exactly go in through the front door and ask what was going on. No one had the stones for that, not even Harry Potter.

She was crouched beside shrubs, and the faint moonlight made it hard to see. But her DA coin hanging from her bracelet had been green for quite some time. She had no warning for anyone behind her before she was placed in a full body bind.

_Fuck,_ she thought, and wanted to kick herself. She should have gotten away when she could. She should have been happy enough with the guest list. Maybe the Order _didn't_ know for certain who was a Death Eater.

Katie couldn't even cry out in pain when a vicious kick landed on her ribs, turning her over onto her back. She stared up into the starry sky, hoping she would live. There have been rumors of people going missing, of never returning. The deaths that the twins had mentioned out of their parents' hearing...

Marcus Flint stood over her, his gaze impassive as he contemplated her. For a moment, Katie wondered if he recognized her from the Quidditch pitch at school. She had been younger then, all skinny, knobby knees and elbows and covered in her Quidditch kit. Would it be better or worse if he recognized her from school?

"I should have realized no Gryffindor would have the good sense to stay away," he muttered, shaking his head. He then picked her up. He slung her body over his shoulder and headed into the Manor.

***  
***


	2. Wicked Hospitality

Marcus Flint had always known that his family had close ties to Dark Arts and things of that nature. He still remembered being punished at age five for befriending a Muggleborn in the nearby village or straying too close to the portions of the dungeon that his father had made Unplottable. His mother had whispered to him "Your father _isn't_ always right," and let him have dinner even over his father's objections. He had known even then that her death soon after wasn't natural, though he was hard pressed to come up with a concrete reason. His father could only say that Muggleborns were responsible, and his story about the circumstances around her death was never the same one each time he asked. All it took was one particularly painful hex for Marcus to figure out that his mother's death was a sore topic, that his father didn't like being wrong or crossed in any way.

He hadn't shown up for the NEWTS, knowing that his father intended for him to take the Dark Mark the second he graduated. What was the point in taking exams he would never need to actually use? But his father had been enraged, and forced him to repeat the seventh year. No one in the Snakes' Den had wanted to cross him that year, and his plays had been particularly brutal that year. He took the Dark Mark as expected, and went to all the meetings as expected. He was a dutiful Death Eater, a loyal supporter and believer in the cause. He wasn't one to rape and torture Muggles, but that wasn't expected of him yet anyway. It was considered a privilege for the Dark Lord's longstanding supporters, and he had to earn it.

Aurelius Flint had managed to convince the Dark Lord to hold several revels at his home. While he had moved into Malfoy Manor, Aurelius Flint had wanted to impress Voldemort with his loyalty and hospitality. It was a change of pace, and the Malfoys were glad to be out of their own home for a time. They felt almost confined at times, and Aurelius supposed that perpetually being under the Dark Lord's supervision could try anyone's patience.

"You'll see to our guests, of course," Aurelius told his son sternly. The lines on his face had deepened over the past few years. He liked saying that there was none of his wife's weak will in him, that Marcus was a child of his own creation.

Marcus nodded at his father. "I'll have all of the arrangements prepared hours in advance, Father," he replied. "How many Muggles should I put into the dungeons for you?"

"Surprise me," Aurelius said, a hint of a smile on his lips. "It's high time you took steps to become a more active participant in the ranks."

"I've done my duty to our Lord as best as I could, Father," Marcus answered. "Is there some way I'm lacking?"

Aurelius' eyes narrowed slightly, then relaxed as he took in his son's impassive face. Marcus didn't seem to be mouthing off. The last bit of insolence seemed to be when he refused to take his school exams, and Aurelius had methodically beaten it out of him over that summer. Marcus had returned home from Hogwarts after his second seventh year harder and sharper in places, more silent and methodical. He was no longer a schoolboy to be coddled, and Aurelius had slowly given him more and more responsibility at the Manor. Marcus was a young Death Eater, not given much responsibility or information regarding the grand plans for the Ministry. But he was invaluable during raids, coldly efficient at torturing spells and in obtaining entertainment for Death Eater revels. If he wasn't as bloodthirsty as the Lestranges were, it certainly wasn't a mark against him. Flints were not as crazed as that lot, and there was really no call to be playing about with prey the way they did sometimes.

"No," Aurelius said finally, nodding. "You'll do. You're just inexperienced. Time will fix that."

"It's only been three years," Marcus replied evenly. "I'll be a credit to the cause soon enough."

Aurelius smiled at his son. "That is a truth, Marcus. I'll be meeting with Yaxley today, so you're on your own with preparations. I'm sure you won't disappoint."

Marcus nodded stiffly. "Father."

He knew his father's type, the weak and helpless that he could torture and rape and break to pieces. The smell of rot and decay clung to the walls, the desiccated or rotting remains left behind in the cells. Aurelius liked to leave it there to frighten the Muggles into submission, and it was easy enough to block the smell with a simple charm on the nose. There were silencing charms worked into the very walls of the cells, so that the sound of screaming didn't carry any further than the barred doors. It wouldn't do to have one Death Eater's fun ruined by the untimely screams of another's victims.

That evening would look like any other society function, though the participants all knew what would happen after hours in the dungeons. Some younger Death Eaters asked to participate as well, though Marcus wasn't one of them. He didn't find any particular pleasure in breaking Muggles or Muggleborns. There wasn't much point, as far as he was concerned. They were inferior, so where was the sport? Order members captured and tortured for opposing the supremacy of Purebloods was of necessity; some actually gave up vital information hoping to save themselves from death. Those that didn't talk even under duress really shouldn't expect anything other than death anyway.

The Manor's wards were opened for the revel. The dungeons were stocked with Muggles from random villages all over England and even from one or two remote locations in France that Marcus knew about. Marcus knew that revels were opportune times for the Order to come after those they thought were Death Eaters. Part of his responsibilities in organizing the evening was also in organizing the security for their guests. He would know if anyone crossed the wards that wasn't supposed to be there; everything about the Manor was keyed to his wand. It had taken a long time, but Aurelius trusted him to care for the Manor implicitly. Aurelius didn't even need to double check the ward settings or set his wand to alert him any longer.

So when the wards were tripped that evening, he simply told his father he would deal with their guests' needs. Aurelius understood the meaning behind the words, and had him leave when Lord Voldemort made his grand entrance.

Marcus hadn't recognized the petite witch crouching beside the shrubbery, staring at the servants' entrance to the Manor. She looked like she was trying to figure out a way into the Manor, which wouldn't have boded well for her health at all. She looked vaguely familiar, but he hadn't really interacted with many people outside his House at Hogwarts and definitely not outside of his year. It didn't surprise him that children were working for the Order; if Voldemort could use children, so could the opposition. All he knew was that she was probably Gryffindor and he had probably played Quidditch against her.

He had set aside a few rooms in the dungeons when making preparations for his father. There was an illusory wall separating his father's preferred prisoner cells from those at the end of the hallway. There were two at the very end that were scrubbed clean and monitored by one of his house elves. He threw the girl into one of the cells after pocketing her wand. Being a witch, she had no other weapons or defenses. He had planned to return to the revel and leave her there to stew in her own fear, but her grunt when hitting the floor was familiar. He tried to remember the names of the female Gryffindor Quidditch players, and the only one that came to mind easily was Bell. She had been an ickle tiny thing when she first started playing, but he had slammed into her and threw her off her broom as if she was any other player. While Madam Hooch had cried foul for "unsportsmanlike behavior," the girl had simply come back for more at each game, mouthing off at him every chance she got.

"Bell?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What?" she snapped irritably, pushing herself up to her feet.

He strode forward without thinking and wrapped his hand around her throat. She was petite, almost dainty next to him. He could probably snap her neck with a flick of his wrist and leave her for dead. "What did you hope to gain by coming here tonight? Hm?"

"Fuck you," she spat. "I won't tell you anything."

Marcus lifted her up off the ground by her neck. "Is that so?" Stupid Gryffindor bravado. She was hardly more than a child. What kind of shite was the Order filling their heads with, if they were so willing to give up their lives to an impossible task like stopping Voldemort?

"Fucking Death Eater," Katie said, lips curling in derision. "Does it make you feel all important to beat up on a defenseless little girl?"

He punched her in the solar plexus, his face impassive. As the breath flew from her lungs, he dropped her to the floor. She landed on her wrist with a cry, and it was likely that something in it was broken. "I'll deal with you later."

He couldn't hear her curses at him once he closed the cell door. He tucked her wand into a slim groove above the door; it wouldn't do to return to the revel with a second wand. Someone would get paranoid and accuse him of wanting to do harm to a high ranking Death Eater. If he survived the hexing, his father would simply Crucio him for getting caught.

Aurelius fixed him with a hard stare when he returned to ballroom. Marcus nodded to indicate that he had taken care of the problem, and he let his father interpret that however he liked. The dinner was easily managed, and he stayed near his lot of friends within the Death Eaters. None were particularly enthusiastic about being left behind for most of the Ministry planning. They were ready to do more than simply terrorize the countryside, and they were all ready to be part of the sweeping changes about to take effect. The Wizarding World had to be protected from the outside influence of Muggles and the Muggleborns threatening to take over society. Too many young witches and wizards thought nothing of traveling about Muggle territory or dressing like Muggles. Some were likely even making friends with Muggles. If that kept on, then they would simply marry into the Muggle population, further diluting their magical blood. In a few more generations, there might not be a Wizarding World left to protect.

Marcus bowed out of the after dinner entertainment. "I'll stay to guard the premises," he told his father. "I don't trust the Order or their sympathizers."

Aurelius nodded his approval at Marcus' caution. "And the problem you mentioned earlier?"

"Contained. I'll question the little spy later, when it's more convenient."

His father made a harrumphing noise; Marcus didn't seem to have the same kind of definition for torture that he did, though he was methodical and paid attention to detail. He supposed the boy was finding a style of his own, though Aurelius would rather have liked to see more enthusiasm for the group activities. Marcus seemed to be more of a solitary soldier. Voldemort always said those kinds of men had their place in the grand scheme of things, and Aurelius didn't want his son to be bypassed by upstarts. Aurelius wanted to be sure that Marcus received the glory that Voldemort could give his family.

Marcus patrolled the Manor diligently and silently, his face a controlled mask. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. The Flints had paid attention to the letter of the law in all things even as they followed Voldemort's lead; it wasn't wrong to have guests in his home, to entertain as he saw fit if it didn't hurt anyone the Ministry ruled over. The Order had no business controlling what went on in his own house, what he believed in his own mind or what he thought had to be done to stay safe.

It was in this state of mind that he descending into the dungeons when the revel was over and Aurelius had gone to bed.

"What right have you spying around my home?" Marcus snarled as he stalked into the cell where Katie was sitting up against the wall. She stood hastily, her mouth opening to answer him. He grabbed her by her arms and shook her roughly. "Well?"

"You have the Dark Lord in your house? You think you can keep that secret?" Katie replied.

"So? Who sent you here?" Marcus asked, closing his left hand around her throat in a threatening gesture. His right hand held his wand against the center of her chest.

Katie's lip curled in derision even as her insides shook in terror. "As if I'd simply tell you."

"You never did have any sense, did you, Bell?" Marcus replied with a sneer, letting go of her throat abruptly.

The hex burned through her, setting every nerve on fire. It wasn't even a Crucio, leaving Katie to wonder how she would stand up under it.

Marcus watched her try to keep from screaming, try to keep standing. She crashed down to her knees and began to scream after a minute. He watched her dispassionately, then lifted the hex. She fell to the floor, gasping for breath, then tried to push herself back to standing. Her arms and legs were wobbling, but she finally stood on unsteady legs and lifted her chin as she stared at him. "Is that the best you've got?" she bluffed.

He punched her in the mouth without warning. His knuckles met her teeth; her lip split open on impact, and her head snapped back into the stone wall of the cell. His expression didn't change, and he didn't even blink when she collapsed onto the floor.

Marcus hunkered down in front of her. "Who sent you here?" he asked, voice bland.

Katie looked at him in loathing. "I'll never tell you, you fucking troll."

With an easy flick of the wrist, Katie was floating in the air. For an eerie moment, she thought she was back in Hogsmeade after touching that cursed locket with a fingertip. Suspended in air for an impossible moment, Katie bit back a scream.

And then she crashed into the wall. The wrist she had fallen on earlier flared into bright pain again; if it was sprained before, it was definitely broken now. Then she crashed into the opposite wall, and it was all she could do to throw her arms over her head to prevent a skull fracture. She crashed into the walls at least a dozen times before Marcus let her fall to the cold stone floor at last. She couldn't breathe; she was dizzy, her arms and hands were broken and she was terrified that he was going to kill her.

But Marcus stood up easily and tucked his wand back into his sleeve. "You'll tell me what I want to know, Bell. Sooner or later, everyone does."

She gasped for air as he left the cell, the door swinging shut after him. She rolled over onto her back as best as she could, her arms and hands on fire. This was what her mother was so afraid of. This was what her parents had wanted to shield her from. If she ever saw them again, she would gladly take their "I told you so."

***

Marcus waited until his house elf Apple returned to his quarters. "Well?" he demanded.

"The prisoner has been healed," Apple squeaked, bowing her head. She had been his nanny elf first, and Marcus' mother had been sure that she was well versed in healing spells and all kinds of medical magic. He hadn't always appreciated it at the time, but now it was convenient. Apple was to monitor Katie Bell, and after a set number of hours heal all of the broken bones. It would hurt like holy fire, which was added incentive not to do it right away.

"Has she been fed yet?"

"Master hasn't ordered it." Apple squeaked, holding her trembling hands together. She always looked nervous, which made Aurelius think that Marcus beat her regularly. He approved of that kind of discipline, though Marcus didn't have to do a thing. Apple just had a nervous constitution and was overly eager to please.

"Good. She must be famished by now."

"Apple could hear her stomach rumbling."

"Did she ask for any food?" Apple shook her head, and Marcus leaned back and stretched. He'd dozed in the meantime, and it was close to five in the morning now. "The pain from healing bones made her ignore it so far, I suppose."

Apple waited patiently while Marcus stretched and then got dressed for the day. "One cup of soup, then," Marcus decided. He opened a box with various potions and selected one vial. "Put one drop of this into it per cup. Only feed her when I tell you to."

Apple took the vial and nodded profusely before disappearing with a pop.

His father would be asleep until noon, and would then go about his business at Flint Shipping until evening. Marcus would be left to his own devices for the rest of the weekend, but would have to resume his responsibilities at the family company in the inventory department come Monday morning. He would be surprised if Katie lasted until then. Most people broke within a day or two with the pain of breaking and healing bones.

But she was just as surly and uncooperative at lunchtime, even though she was ravenously hungry. Marcus punched her in the face again, feeling a hot wash of blood burst from her nose when he broke it. Katie couldn't quite stand on her own at that point, so he fixed her to the stone wall with a spell and pummeled her midsection. She grunted with the impact and dared to kick at him. She connected with his shins and just missed his groin when she lashed out with a knee. All the while she snarled and growled and shouted "Fuck you!" at him every time he asked who had sent her to his home.

He had to admit, he was beginning to respect her a little. She was much tougher than he had originally given her credit for.

Marcus directed blows at her kidneys. She gave a startled gasp of pain with each blow, but still refused to give in. One particularly vicious jab had her losing continence. Marcus stepped back and coolly observed her reddening face, but otherwise didn't say anything. He had known that would happen. Apparently the Order didn't warn their operatives about physical torture. He wondered how many would still work for them if they did.

Marcus left and gave Apple instructions to use scouring spells on her and the cell after another hour. Once the cell was clean, she could let Katie down from the wall.

The hunger would get to her, then. If pain didn't, that sometimes did.

Katie was miserable. The cell was cold, and there was nothing in it other than a thin straw pallet in one corner far from the door. There was a vague low light from the ceiling of the cell, but it was otherwise dark. She had tried pacing it, and figured that the cell was roughly fourteen feet square. She shivered, her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around them to try to conserve heat. It was the height of summer, so her black trousers and blouse weren't terribly thick. Huddling on the pallet didn't help much, and the bare straw scratched. She tried to refrain from relieving herself when she could, but picked a corner of the cell nearest to the door when she absolutely couldn't hold it anymore. The trembling little house elf had healed her broken bones, always hours later so that the pain that dulled down to a low roar flared to life once again. The elf also scoured the room top to bottom, rubbing her skin raw in the process. The elf brought cups of soup at random intervals; she was always hungry, so meals had to be skipped at some point.

She was miserable and cold and hungry and filthy, and couldn't even blame anyone but herself for this mess. She hadn't been alert enough, hadn't been fast enough. She should have known that someone would be about, that it shouldn't have been that easy to get close to the Manor so that she could see inside the window.

So much for her grand gesture to get back at the Death Eaters for using her last year.

She looked up from her hunched position on the floor when the door opened again. Marcus strode in, impeccably dressed as if about to go out for the evening.

He idly checked on his cufflinks and looked at her huddled on the floor. "Are you going to tell me who you're working with?"

Katie glared at him despite her chattering teeth. "Fuck you."

Marcus lifted her easily with a spell. While he didn't know the cause of it, he could tell that this discomfited her. It didn't make much sense, given that she had been a fairly talented Quidditch player, but he supposed it was the fact that he was in control of her flight that bothered her. Still, it was a weakness he had no problems exploiting.

"You have one last chance to tell me who you're working with," Marcus drawled, fixing his other cufflink. He would have to go to dinner soon, and his father didn't like it if he was late.

Katie glared at him, her jaw set and her lips clamped tight. That was answer enough.

"Very well," he said, spinning her so that her back faced him. He cut her back with a slicing hex, face impassive as she cried out in pain. "Tell me what I want to know, and this will stop."

"You're a fucking monster," she spat instead, her fists clenched tight.

Another slash and a cry of pain. Still she refused. Over the course of the next ten minutes, she refused every demand for a name and received a deep slash in her back for her efforts. Marcus was cutting her back to ribbons, the black shirt falling to pieces. Apple arrived at the end of ten minutes with a bucket of steaming water as instructed. He had thought that perhaps she would remain stubborn. He could admire that, even if it was misguided. Now it was going to be a point of pride to break her and get those names.

"It must be comforting to know that no one's even looking for you," Marcus drawled as he put his wand away. "The grounds have been clear all weekend."

Of course they had been. No one had even known where she was going.

Katie shut her eyes and let her forehead fall forward to rest against the freezing stones. Her back burned and was sore, and even the chill air stung against the open wounds.

Marcus picked up the bucket and nodded at Apple to wait where she was. He wordlessly threw the water so that it fell across Katie's scored back. Katie wailed in pain, throwing her head back as she cried out.

Grimly, Marcus watched as Katie began to sob. He nodded at Apple again and left the cell. She was to wait for fifteen minutes, then release Katie from the floating spell. Then she was to wait another twenty minutes after that before healing the wounds on Katie's back and cleansing the filth from her.

There was no point in letting Katie die of infection. He hadn't even started in on her properly yet, and he was determined to get the names of Order members from her.

He'd have them even if it killed her.

***  
***


	3. The Salt of Tears

Katie looked up blearily at the sound of a pop. She slept a lot, as there really wasn't anything else to do but wallow in self recrimination. Her sleep wasn't restful, however. It was too cold and she was continually shivering. Sometimes she shivered herself awake, she was shaking that hard. She curled into a fetal ball, her arms around her torso, trying to keep warm.

The trembling house elf had a small mug filled with watery soup. Katie was too hungry to simply refuse it, and obviously Marcus didn't want to simply poison her or kill her outright. She reached out for the mug and drank it in three gulps. "Can't you ask him to give me water?" she asked, her mouth temporarily moistened. "And for a blanket or something? I'll freeze to death down here if I don't have something."

"Master will give what he gives," the elf said, shaking even harder. "Apple can't ask for more for the prisoner!"

Katie sighed as the house elf disapparated with a pop, then put her arms around her knees. The thin soup might've been just enough to keep her alive, but it was almost as if she was even hungrier after drinking it down.

She was still shivering when Apple returned with a thin bed sheet and a ceramic mug full of water. Katie soon found out that the mug was charmed to perpetually fill with water. The sheet didn't help with keeping warm, but if she folded it over a few times to cover the straw pallet, the rough edges didn't rub her raw skin too painfully. She laid down over it, still shivering but at least a smidgeon more comfortable.

She was dozing when Marcus returned, but hadn't woken when the door creaked open. She woke when he lifted her up by the front of her shirt and held her up over the ground. Katie kicked out wildly as her hands closed over his wrist. There was blind panic as her brain tried to wake up, as she tried to figure out what the hell was going on. She finally found herself staring at Marcus' impassive face, and she tried to school the panic from her features. "Your wakeup call needs a little work," she snarked, trying to sound cheerful.

"Duly noted," he intoned, and opened his fist. He watched as Katie yelped, nearly falling to the floor. But her hands tightened around his wrist, and she gradually lowered herself down to the stone floor. The last time she had fallen, she had sprained her ankle.

Katie stood her ground, though she wanted almost desperately to press herself against the frigid stones as far away from him as possible. "What do you want now?"

"Ready to tell me who sent you?"

"You must be really bored to keep going with that old question," Katie replied instead of answering him. He slapped her across the face, and she staggered back into the wall from the force of his blow. Somehow the impassive expression on his face made everything worse. If he looked angry, or upset or _something,_ she wouldn't feel quite so helpless. It was almost as if it didn't matter _what_ she said, he would hit her anyway.

Katie stood, using the wall for balance. Her head was spinning a little. She was underfed and freezing cold and utterly terrified. Yet even that was starting to fade a little, as if there was only so much terror she could hold before she became numb to it. She had no idea how long she had been in this cell. The cups of soup were at irregular intervals, so she guessed that she probably missed a few meals as well. If she had to guess, she would assume that Marcus arrived at least once a day. At least, he was dressed slightly differently each time he arrived. Sometimes he was better dressed than others; on those occasions, he only used wand work on her. If he wasn't as well dressed, he was more likely to come in swinging. Katie would guess that she'd been locked away for at least two weeks; she hoped that meant the twins had gotten Harry safely to the Burrow from his relatives' home.

She refused to wonder what the twins thought of her, if they wondered whether she was alive or not or if she had simply run. There hadn't been any message about her on the DA coin that she could see, and her hopes shriveled in her chest with every passing day.

"Try again," Marcus was saying, watching as she struggled to stay upright. She was a stubborn bint, refusing to give in. If she wasn't so patently misguided, he might have been impressed with her endurance.

"Fuck you," Katie replied wearily. She couldn't think of anything witty to say.

She awkwardly tried to block the blow to her midsection, and ducked out of the way of his fist headed to her face. Marcus grunted when he hit the stone wall, and Katie tried to use her smaller size to duck away from him and roll toward the door. It hadn't worked any other time, but there was always a first time.

Today wasn't that time.

He caught her about the waist and slung her around in a wide circle. Her head collided with the wall, and she was stunned to immobility. Marcus grasped her right hand and held her fingers outstretched with one hand. He grasped her pinky and pulled it back as far it could go, then pulled even farther. Katie struggled, crying out in pain, but Marcus kept going until something ripped in her finger and it was bent all the way back. He moved on to repeat this with every finger, until she was retching bile and her face was covered in tears.

"Are they really worth this?" he whispered against her ear.

She shivered and pulled herself away from him. "You need to be stopped," she choked, not quite able to meet his eyes. "You're despicable."

Marcus stood. "I'll give you more time to think on it." He checked his watch casually. "You're lucky I have somewhere to be, or else your left hand would be broken, too."

"I hate you," Katie hissed at his retreating back. The words made no impact as he shut the door. She collapsed onto the floor, holding her hand away from the floor and her body awkwardly. At some random interval, that damned house elf would come and repair the damage, setting the pain to burn through her all over again.

She pressed her face against the freezing cold floor and sobbed. She had to believe that her silence would help the Weasleys and the Order. She had to.

The alternative was unthinkable.

***

Marcus leaned against the fireplace in the Malfoy library, idly paging through their Pureblood Directory. He was quite possibly becoming obsessed with the Bell girl. His father had his Muggle torture sessions as a hobby, he had Katie Bell. There was something possibly disturbing in the concept, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it. The Flint men had arrived at Malfoy Manor for an impromptu gathering, and Draco Malfoy was looking pathetic and pale. He was nothing like the braggart he had been when Marcus was still at Hogwarts. Becoming a Death Eater hadn't been a good move for him, however necessary it had been. Draco was pacing the library, clearly agitated, though he was silent.

"Do you suppose the Beaumonts went to France?" Marcus asked, looking at the Directory. The Beaumont family was listed as "vacationing" in the book, which meant that they had chosen to flee the regime change. Normal vacations weren't listed in the book, only extended ones that likely turned into permanent moves.

"Christabel's grandmother is French," Draco commented, not really paying attention. His pacing didn't slow down either. "So it's a possibility."

"The Bells left. That girl Katie was in your class, wasn't she?" Marcus asked, not looking at the Directory. They were "vacationing" as well, and Katie would never show up in the book. The Flint dungeons were Unplottable.

"A year above," Draco corrected, shaking his head. "She's gone now. And last year... Well, she still played Quidditch at the end of the year."

"Ah. Something happened to the game last year?"

Draco shook his head, but Marcus could see his hands shake slightly. "Spell damage from a cursed locket. She was gone for months."

"Cursed locket?" Marcus asked, putting the book aside. Now this was getting interesting. "Which one, did they say?"

"They didn't, but it was the Eye of Herat."

"And how would you know it was the Eye of Herat?" Marcus asked, voice even though his gaze was sharp. Draco flinched. "What?"

"Our set knows what that is," Draco began slowly. Marcus nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. "You know my task from last year..."

"Half done, if I recall correctly," Marcus said sharply. Draco flinched and pressed his lips shut, turning away from Marcus. "You gave it to her, then? Are you mad?"

"Rosmerta Imperiused her," Draco said stubbornly, turning around. "She was more likely to get it to that old fool anyway."

"And that was so subtle it failed." Marcus shook his head. Her fear of being suspended in midair made sense. The Eye of Herat was a pretty enough trinket, but it was a Dark object that would put the wearer into a state of suspended animation while it subjected the wearer to untold mental horrors. The wearers usually died within moments, their hearts unable to withstand the strain of that much terror.

"You don't understand..." Draco began miserably.

"No, I do," Marcus snapped. It was rather like being captain of the Slytherin House team again. Draco didn't have the discipline to truly withstand an onslaught. He liked to think he did, and tended to posture for others. That was fine for schoolboy antics, as Lucius Malfoy had always been there to back him up. Lucius' standing was suspect now, however. This placed Draco right up front with the rest of the new Death Eater recruits.

Draco didn't know he was supposed to fail, as punishment to Lucius. He took the failure hard, and it was eroding his self esteem.

It was sad, and Marcus felt something that might've been pity in a lesser creature. "What you don't understand is what your purpose is," he continued, voice steely. "You need to do as you're told, fulfill every obligation. You can't question, you can't hesitate." Marcus crossed over to Draco in four easy strides. His hand fell heavily on the younger boy's shoulder. "But you hesitate, and they know that. They _wanted_ you to fail."

If anything, Draco seemed to grow paler. "Why are you telling me this?" he whispered.

_Bugger if I know,_ Marcus thought darkly. But the boy could be an ally in the days to come, and he had to tread carefully. "Your father should've trained you up properly." Draco bristled at the slight against his father, but Marcus tightened his grip on Draco's shoulder. "Your father protected you from the reality of what it's like, and he did you no favors. You'll get yourself and your parents killed at this rate."

"So what do I do?" Draco asked in a resigned tone.

"Have you been invited out to a torture session?" Draco shook his head mutely at Marcus' question, looking vaguely ill. "Have you been asked to do _anything_ of importance for the cause yet?"

"I've got my seventh year of school, still," Draco replied, shaking his head. "They said that I'm not expected to do much more than recruit younger years." He looked at Marcus for a moment. "I could always repeat a year, I suppose..."

Marcus tightened his hand on Draco's shoulder in silent disapproval. "That's not a way to put them off. Believe me."

"But you..." Draco belatedly remembered how much nastier Marcus had been in training the Quidditch team, how the seventh years had avoided him. "Oh."

"Your father's told you about what sort of things are expected of you, hasn't he?" Draco shrugged uneasily under Marcus' stare. "Raids? Torture and murder of Order members, Mudbloods or Muggles?" Draco looked almost deathly pale at Marcus' words. "I suppose all he talked about was the purity of blood."

"That's what this is all about." Draco felt almost naïve for saying it that way.

"But he never talked about how we would get there, did he?" Marcus guessed. "He didn't say that you'd have to carve it out of the current administration? That we'll have to weed out the blood traitors and make examples of them? That it's going to be a difficult run until then?"

"Maybe he thought I'd never have to fight," Draco murmured.

"Well, you're going to have to," Marcus told Draco briskly. "I'm sure that you don't have many prisoners in your dungeons yet, the way your father shielded you from things. We could always go to Flint Manor after the meeting. Someone Father started on might still be alive. That's a good enough start for you."

"Why are you helping me?" Draco asked suspiciously.

At least he had some sense to question Marcus' motives. Marcus shrugged and released Draco's shoulder. "It would be a waste of perfectly good blood for our cause if you do something stupid that gets you killed. There's no call in your lineage being terminated because someone pulled an idiot move you couldn't see coming. Besides, our mothers were friends once."

Draco accepted that readily enough. "Thanks, Flint."

"Real thanks will be in staying alive in the mess to come," Marcus told him.

"You think it's going to be a mess?" Draco asked, surprise. "The Ministry's been denying everything so far. Fudge couldn't stop whatever our Lord has planned, never could. What's going to change that?"

Marcus thought of Katie's strength of will. If the rest of the Order was the same way, it was going to be a long fight.

"Trust me. If they think they're as right in their thinking as we do, they'll fight us just as hard. We are going to have to hit harder and faster, everywhere they don't expect."

"The Dark Lord doesn't give them that much credit," Draco murmured. "He's sure he can finish this and find Potter by winter's end."

Marcus idly thought of Katie, broken and bleeding and still cursing his name. "I'd be pleasantly surprised," he murmured, "but I don't think that's the case."

Draco nodded unhappily. "That wanker always seems to have things go his way."

"He's just a symbol at this point," Marcus said. "The sooner he's caught and killed, the sooner this war will be over with."

Startled, Draco looked over at Marcus. "You think this is a war?"

"It's been a war for years, Malfoy," Marcus told the younger boy with a sneer. "The other side just never accepted it for what it was. Pretty soon, they're going to have to."

***

"Crucio."

Katie screamed until her throat was raw, the back of her skull banging into the floor and scraping along the stone. She knew her muscles were all clenched tight, that her back arched like a bow as her nerves burned with unholy fire. She'd felt this before, she'd expected this now, but it didn't stop it from hurting any less.

Marcus flicked his wand lazily and Katie collapsed onto the floor, dark hair sticking to her face in sweaty clumps. She gasped for breath and coughed, but didn't say anything. He watched her curl in on herself with a groan. "No bravado?" he taunted, wand still extended. "It probably isn't the same amount of pain as the Eye of Herat, but it's still bad enough, isn't it?"

"What's that?" she rasped, looking up at him through her tangled hair.

"No one told you the name of the locket you carried last year?" Marcus asked with feigned surprise. She pressed her lips together unhappily, but otherwise showed no sign of having heard him. "No, I don't suppose they would. Most of that lot wouldn't recognize it."

"Were you the one that gave it to me, then?" Katie rasped, trying to dredge up more hatred for him. She felt mostly burned out, and she simply collapsed back onto the cold stones.

Marcus snorted. "If I wanted someone dead, they'd be dead. No messing about with imperfect delivery systems. No, Bell, you were just a pawn in someone else's game."

She had known that, of course. She wasn't anybody important, really. That was why she thought spying would help the Order. Who would look at a petite brunette skulking about in corners?

"No more tears?" Marcus taunted. "But you're so pretty when you cry."

She wanted to claw his eyes out and rip his tongue out of his mouth. She felt so weak, rather like when she first woke up at St. Mungo's from the curse damage. Katie let her eyes fall shut. They felt raw, as if there was sand and grit beneath her eyelids, and she felt too wrung out to shed any tears, even if she wanted to. "Too cold and starved, Flint. Sorry."

He kicked her in the stomach, and watched the air rush out of her lungs. She made a soft moan of pain, curling around her stomach even tighter. He knelt down and murmured the spell that turned the tip of his wand into a sharp knife. The wand sliced through the skin of her face before she could even blink, even gasp for breath. Just a few lines etched into her skin, though his father liked to peel the skin back to expose muscle and play with that for a while. It was messy and horrible in a way that he couldn't name. Though Katie Bell was a Blood traitor, he still couldn't quite reduce her to a bloody pile of meat.

He stood and let his wand return to normal, Katie's blood marring the tip. "There. If I can't have the salt of your tears, I'll take it from your blood."

Head wounds bled a lot. It was pooling beneath her face already, and she could only stare at him with horrified eyes, her fingers scrabbling at the stones beneath her as the stinging set in. She watched as he left the cell, the door shutting quietly behind him. Katie clenched her hands into fists, wishing she had been able to do _something_ to him, even if she still felt weak and boneless from the Cruciatus Curse.

She still hadn't moved when Apple arrived five minutes later to heal her wounds and supply her with a blood replenishing potion and mug of soup.

***  
***


	4. Nothing To Gain

Katie's clothes were rank, ragged and hanging from her frame. She had no idea how long she had been in the cell, and Apple shrieked every time she tried to ask. It was at least two months, if not three, considering she'd gone through her menstrual cycle twice and had to deal with Apple dousing her with scouring charms multiple times a day. She glared at the door to her cell as if she could make Marcus magically appear if she was full of enough rage. She was fucking _bored_ and hungry and freezing cold. But if she was really going to be honest with herself, and there was no reason not to be, she was afraid more than anything else. It was the fear of dying, the fear of Marcus and whatever twisted desire he had, the fear of being forgotten, the fear of being remembered, the fear of _something worse,_ the fear of the fear. It felt like there was never a moment when she was not afraid of _something_ in the half light of the stone cell. Each second felt worse than the last one, with no limit to how bad it can be. It kept getting worse and worse and worse.

Some fucking brave Gryffindor she turned out to be. A shiver rolled through her, and she felt almost nauseous. If she threw up again today, there would still be nothing but bile.

He cast a nightmare spell earlier. In it, he had sliced her to ribbons and then spread her skin out on a table, piecing it back together in the shape of a girl. Then he pulled her eyes out of their sockets to complete the tableau, and he had leaned down to kiss the mockery of flesh he had laid out, blood smeared across his face.

She had sobbed when he pulled her out of it, refusing to tell him any names or any details of the hellish nightmare he had put her into.

He cast it again, and she was staring at herself in a mirror. Her skin was bubbling, sliding from her muscle and bone, and she could smell fire. She reached out for the mirror, maybe reaching for Marcus, maybe calling out his name and screaming. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, a dark cloud of smoke exiting instead of a voice. She was burning, burning, ash and smoke and fire leaving nothing of Katie behind, nothing to find and mourn.

Katie lost count of how many times he cast that damned spell, how many times she looked down into her dead eyes swimming in a pool of blood, how many times he pulled her apart and scraped at her spine looking for answers she refused to give. She lost count of how many times he simply stared at her with empty eyes, saying _tell me_ without saying the words, how many times she simply begged him to stop, to show mercy, to _please dear Merlin let it end._ She might have begged him to kill her, to stop playing with her and just get the job over with.

She was shaking as much from fear as the cold, as much from remembered terror as from real terror, as much from anticipating the worst as feeling it.

Katie hated Marcus Flint, but she hated herself a thousand times worse.

She glared at the door when it finally opened, when Marcus strode into the cell in casual clothes that hinted it might have been a lovely weekend outside. She pushed herself to her feet, seeing her arms so thin in her ragged blouse that she was positively skeletal. She was skinny before, but this starvation turned her into an emaciated wreck.

"Standing for your better?" Marcus sneered. Just because he didn't have his wand visible didn't mean it wasn't there, and Katie knew it would make an appearance at some point. He liked testing new spells on her, new hexes and tortures. He liked telling her how much she would hurt before he did it, how much the next victim would hurt.

She didn't know if he was lying to her or not, but she was terrified just the same.

"You're not better than me," she replied, her lips curling into a sneer that scarily mirrored the one on his face. "You're a sad little boy, a poor excuse of a creature that has to go beating up on a starving girl to feel big. Is this where you get yourself puffed up? Feel like you're not some pathetic loser that can't get it up? Is that it?" Katie tilted her chin up a fraction, as if she could ever look down her nose at the man that towered above her. "I feel sorry for you."

He was in front of her before she could blink, the front of her shirt in his fist. He threw her across the cell, her blouse front ripping right off. She landed on the floor, limbs splayed, torso exposed to his furious gaze.

Marcus picked her up by her hair, then threw her down again. He stuck her wrists to the floor with a spell as her head spun dizzily. When she was more aware of what he was doing, it was to realize in horror that he had his cock in hand, stroking himself to hardness. Katie tugged on her wrists to no avail, then tried to kick at him. He was kneeling between her legs, nudging them open with his knees. Katie tried to shut her legs, started pleading with him to stop, _I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it, no not this please not this—_

He had a hand around her throat and was choking her as he thrust past her innocence. It dimly registered, but he had been angry when he arrived and her brave words had simply kicked him over into a blind rage. He bit her lips and her breasts, clawed at her sides and twisted her nipples cruelly, just to hear her scream. It didn't matter that she was sobbing, that she was still trying to beg him to stop between gasps for breath. She was dry and tight and he knew he was tearing her. He knew her blood coated him, slicked her virginal passage. It was the sensation that made him come, not the fact that he was raping her.

Marcus lifted the spell from her wrists and left the cell, almost disgusted with himself. He turned at the door, and watched in silence as she sobbed brokenly. She dragged herself across the floor toward the poor excuse of a pallet, her blood and his come streaked across her thighs. He'd never had to force a girl before, never been pushed to the point of blind rage before. He had always been in control of himself, always been careful and methodical. He'd never lost control like this before, and it took a helpless Muggle loving blood traitor trapped in the dungeons to do it. He wanted to blame her for this debacle, for the loss of control.

The quiet click of the cell door locking behind him seemed worse than any scream she could make. He knew that Pureblood witches shouldn't be dealt with like that, even blood traitor ones, even girls currently too skinny to be beautiful. It didn't matter that there was no one to see this, that no one would ever know that he had been so undisciplined and unrestrained. His father knew that _someone_ was down in the dungeons, that Marcus had a female prisoner of some kind that he was torturing on a regular basis. But if his father ever discovered that he had lost control enough to rape a prisoner he had never intended to touch that way...

If Apple healed her with greater tenderness than before, Katie was crying too hard to notice. If the soup seemed a bit thicker than before, she didn't notice. She was tired and sore and scared out of her mind so that she didn't even feel hungry or cold anymore.

She almost wished this was from a nightmare spell. At least she could wake up from those.

***

"No sassy comeback today?" Marcus asked, looking at Katie huddled inside her tattered clothing. He had forgotten about that, and made a mental note to have Apple get some kind of clothing for her. Though the skin was unmarred, he swore he could still see bite marks on the rise of her breasts, angry red scratches along her belly and thighs.

Katie pulled herself in tighter, her eyes fixed to the stone of the floor. She was shivering, goose flesh along her arms. Marcus reached out and ran his fingers along her arm, and she flinched away from his touch. He shifted closer, curious. Was this what broke her? His loss of control was what did it?

And then she swung at him, punching him in the nose and mouth, cutting her knuckles across the edges of his teeth.

He caught her ankle as she tried to run past, pulling hard so that she fell to the floor. She landed with a thud, breath knocked out of her, twisting and screaming and kicking in his grasp. Marcus shook her, then pinned her arms above her head, her wrists caught in one hand. Katie was glaring at him, chest heaving, eyes sparking with all the hatred she felt for him.

Good. He had decided he didn't want her broken after all. Tamed, rough edges filed off, perhaps, but not broken to pieces. It didn't even matter about her affiliation with the Order anymore. He might never get the names, and maybe there weren't even any names. Maybe she was just a silly girl hoping to make a name for herself, and had come to Flint Manor of her own volition, hoping to prove herself.

It didn't matter. No one else could have her, no one else could touch her. She belonged to him, body and soul, and he would make her into what he wanted.

She fought him however she could, though it didn't stop him from taking her against her will, from crashing his mouth down to hers. Marcus knew that Katie could hate him forever, that this did nothing to prevent that. Maybe he had been obsessed with her for far too long, and it had only been a matter of time before this was where he went with it.

"You don't get it, do you?" he growled into her ear, moving above her. "You're mine. I get to do whatever I want with you. I always have."

"Fuck you," she hissed, and moved to bite him. Her teeth were her only weapon left.

"Oh, you will one day," Marcus said with a laugh, moving faster as he approached his climax. "You'll beg me for it."

"In your bloody dreams, you wanker."

He licked her lips and merely grinned at her. "There's nowhere else to go," he grunted, thrusting harder inside of her. She pulled a face of pain, turning her head to the side. Marcus lowered his head so that his lips were above her ear. "You've got nothing else to do but think of me, think of this. You'll wonder what it takes to make you want me, I promise you."

She turned her head quickly, knowing it would hurt her cheek but not caring. She crashed into his face, and he pulled his head up and away from hers. "You're a sick bastard."

He came, hands tightening over her, lips spreading into a grin. "Your side can't win, Princess," he told her mockingly. "Your hero ran away."

The words stilled her better than any spell. "You're lying."

"You really think so? You think I bother lying to you down here?" She shivered beneath him, and he knew she believed him. "He ran away. It's only a matter of time before the rest of the world realizes that the only will that matters is the Dark Lord's."

Katie closed her eyes and squeezed them shut. She wished she could do the same to her ears, but she could hear his rough laughter as he pulled out of her. "Harry wouldn't give up," she said, her voice barely more than a broken whisper.

Marcus slid his hands along her stomach then upward, feeling each and every prominent rib along the way. He'd have to actually feed her full meals if she was to fill back out. "He already has," he told her, his voice soft and methodical. "The war is already won."

Tears slipped from beneath her eyelashes, and Marcus traced their path with a thumb. "You tried, I'll give you that much. You've done better than anyone else I've seen, better than I expected. But it's a lost cause. Your side loses."

"Then why haven't you killed me?" Katie asked, eyes stubbornly shut.

Marcus palmed her breast. The nipple was pebbled from cold, not lust, and he felt it along the inside of his palm. "I've other plans for you."

"You make me sick," she said, her voice full of loathing.

"This is all your future is going to be," Marcus told her. He stood and looked down at her splayed body, the fine tremors rolling through her. "You need to get used to the idea."

Katie rolled to her side and sobbed in earnest when the door closed behind him. She couldn't believe him. She _couldn't._

She clutched at her charm bracelet. It felt like it was the only thing keeping her sane at this point, her only link to the outside world. The DA coin was green, and sometimes seemed to have messages on it. There was still a resistance out there. There was still opposition to Voldemort and his regime. There had to be hope. There had to be. Marcus was lying, he had to be. He had already done every filthy thing he could think of, and now this was just one more thing to try to break her will.

Katie was afraid that it was working.

***

Katie stared at the bucket of water and then looked back up at Marcus, who had just demanded that she strip off the pathetic excuse of a nightgown that Apple had given her to wash herself in front of him. She picked up the bucket, feeling its heft. She wasn't quite strong enough to throw the entire damn thing at his head, so she had to settle with throwing the water at him instead. "Go fuck yourself," she hissed. She wasn't about to give him a free show, the fucking pervert. Bad enough he had come in to rape her daily over the past two weeks, pinning her down and forcing her open just because he felt like it. She couldn't stop him; if she came close to attacking him physically he simply pinned her in place with spells and did what he wanted anyway.

He stood there, dripping, almost gawking at her temerity. Then his lips pulled back into an awful grin, his crooked front teeth mocking her. "I thought you'd do that."

Katie crossed her arms in front of her, just beneath her breasts. His eyes gravitated downward, and she almost regretted the move. "So?"

"Apple!" he called.

The house elf popped into the cell and immediately threw a water cleansing spell at Katie. It was a fierce jet of water directed at her torso and head, and Katie threw her hands up in front of her as she tried to hold her ground. She sputtered, turning her face away from the blast of water, trying to keep from choking on it.

She stood there sopping wet when Apple finally stopped, and shook out her arms. The charm bracelet on her wrist jingled as she looked down at herself in distress. The nightgown had been like a shapeless sack around her thin body, but now it clung to every ridge of bone and curve of flesh that remained. "You're a sick bastard," she growled, looking up to see Marcus leering at her. She knew she wasn't exactly beautiful to start with, but she had at least looked nice enough before he nearly starved her to death.

Marcus strode forward, pleased when she stood still in a show of bravado. He grasped her wrists in his hands and yanked the charm bracelet from her wrist. "Interesting trinket. I think I'll keep this," he said as he pocketed it.

Katie fought him, trying to knee him in the groin or scratch at his hands with her broken nails. "You give that back! You arsehole! Give it back!"

But if anything, he only seemed to grin harder. "Well, now. It's important, isn't it? A gift from someone special, isn't it? You'll just have to earn it back."

Katie spat in Marcus' face and kicked at his shins. He lifted her by her wrists until she dangled over the stone floor, and she kicked out rapidly. Marcus could almost see her panic build, could see her pulse flutter in her throat. She was terrified of him, of what he would do next, of what he had planned for her. He knew this. He wasn't the kind to get off on other peoples' terror, but it was a useful tool to use to bend them to his will.

It was almost a relief when he dropped her to the floor, and Katie muffled her sigh. She tried to push herself to her feet, but found after a moment that she couldn't control her limbs. She couldn't even look up. She made an inarticulate sound of terror and heard Marcus chuckle. "I just discovered this little spell today. Some of the other Death Eaters were in a particularly sharing mood today. Apparently some high ranking Order members have been captured. Your hero was nowhere to be found. They're thinking he's as good as dead."

She couldn't move any of her larger voluntary muscles. And she could dimly see Marcus' wand out of the corner of her eye moving. Her limbs began to move in accordance with his gestures, so that she was positioning herself on all fours. She shut her eyes and bit her lip so hard that she could taste blood. It didn't matter what she did, then. With a spell like this, she could shout until she was blue in the face or kick and scream, but he would have whatever he wanted from her. She was a human puppet to play with, that awful spell making him pull the strings.

Katie choked back a sob when Marcus flipped the edge of the sodden nightgown over, exposing her backside and thighs. She shivered in the cold, but couldn't move her arms to crawl away from him. She could feel his hands along her hips, his fingers trailing across the curve of bone and what little flesh remained on her backside. She could feel the smooth wood of his wand along her skin, and kept her eyes squeezed tight. He could do anything to her, anything at all, and it didn't even have to be rape. She was completely at his mercy.

But Marcus trailed the edge of his wand across her skin, watching her shiver in terror. She was trying to keep it in, trying to keep from crying. Brave little Gryffindor, helpless and caught in something she wasn't equipped to deal with. Marcus still couldn't figure out if she had ever been cautioned about how dangerous Death Eaters could be, or if she had simply volunteered without asking. He outlined her folds with his wand, then subvocalized a lubricating spell.

She was surprised by the cool wetness that suddenly appeared inside of her. When Marcus pushed into her, it didn't hurt quite so much. His wand clattered to the floor beside them, and she couldn't even move to grab it, which frustrated her to no end. Marcus' hands gripped her hips tightly, and he tilted them slightly. It shifted her balance, and he wound up moving her arms so that she rested on her forearms, her arse in the air. Marcus thrust into her from behind, and he set a punishing pace. With the lubricant, he wasn't tearing into her.

The surprising part was that it was almost starting to feel good.

Marcus could feel her body flutter around his cock, and he groaned at the sensation. Her breath hitched in her chest, more like surprise than pain, and he couldn't help but grin as he pressed deeply into her. "That's it, Princess," he crooned, pulling her hips back so that he could slam even deeper into her. "Fuck, you feel good this way."

He had to have done something else to her. That was the only explanation, right? There had to be some other spell cast over her, something to trick her. He came inside her with a groan, his hands tightening across her hips hard enough to bruise.

When he lifted the control spell, Katie collapsed onto her stomach abruptly. She groaned and rolled to her side, trying to shift away from Marcus. But he was still kneeling beside her, and fell on top of her. He pulled her arms up high over her head, his entire body weighting her down. He could feel the fine tremors rolling through her, the terror she tried so hard to conceal. "If you promise not to hit me, I might let your wrists go."

"Why would I do that?" Katie snarled at him, struggling to get loose.

His hand tightened painfully around her wrists. "Do you agree?"

"How do you know I won't lie to you?" she countered.

"If you do, you'll be punished," Marcus told her simply. "But if you obey me, you'll be rewarded. That's how this is going to work."

Katie curled her lip at him in derision. "Fine," she spat. She couldn't feel her fingertips.

He let go of her wrists slowly, his eyes locked to hers. Katie didn't move, holding herself stiffly beneath him. Marcus shifted his weight, his moves deliberate as he waited for her to strike at him. Just because she promised didn't mean she would follow through, he reasoned.

But she did, her jaw grit tight. He licked the scab on her lower lip, tasting the copper tang of her blood. Marcus bent his head down and took a cloth covered breast into his mouth and began to suck. Katie gasped, her hands coming down to his shoulders. Her fingers dug into muscle almost painfully, and she tried to twist out of his grasp. She wasn't hitting him, wasn't screaming, wasn't biting at him or anything else. Progress, as far as he was concerned.

He sucked hard, tongue pushing at her nipple. He could feel it begin to pebble through the thin fabric, could hear her breath hitch. It sounded almost like a sob, a soft whine of need. Marcus slid a hand beneath her, cradling her close. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, twitching as her breath caught again. Katie's head lolled back as he lifted her, and he could hear her gasp. Her legs were splayed beneath him, and he could smell the scent of her growing arousal. He could feel the difference in her response, and this was what he wanted. Marcus shifted position over her and slid his hand between her legs, and slid a finger inside of her. She was wet, clenching down around his finger and panting.

No one else would ever touch her. Ever. She belonged to him, that was all.

Marcus moved his finger inside of her, then brought his thumb up to her clit. Katie mewled helplessly, fingers painfully tight on his shoulders. She came with a startled cry, her inner muscles clenched tight around his finger and her body collapsing bonelessly to the floor. He slowly withdrew his hand from between her legs and lifted his head from her breast. Katie couldn't meet his eyes, and she struggled to slow her breathing.

Marcus pressed his lips to her temple and she flinched at the contact. "Good girl," he murmured against her damp hair. "You see? It doesn't have to be so terrible."

Katie didn't even know what to say as she let go of his shoulders. She almost preferred the rape or torture. At least that made it easy to hate him, to yell and curse and fight him. She pressed her eyes shut, not wanting to see the smug look that had to be on his face. She wanted to hate him so much, to hate him for making her traitorous body respond to his touch.

"You know I'm right," he murmured by her hair. "There's nothing to gain from fighting me any longer, is there?"

"I'll still fight you," she choked out, not opening her eyes. "I'll fight you with my last breath."

Silly, brave Gryffindor. Of course she would say that. Of course she would mean it now, but Marcus was determined to break that from her. "Try," he said against the skin of her temple. "I want to see what you've got."

"I hate you," she choked out.

"I wouldn't expect anything less," he responded easily. Whatever he felt for her now wasn't hate, exactly. It was something tangled and sharp and ugly, something almost as vital and savage as breath. There was no name for it, other than a fierce possession.

He left her there, curling in on herself and sobbing. Still, there was progress made, and he had all the time in the world with her. She wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.


	5. Quid Pro Quo

Marcus frowned at the bloodstains on the thin nightgown. He hadn't really contemplated her monthly courses, though they were a reality he had to deal with. Katie was sitting on the stones, her legs curled under her. She watched him warily, color high in her cheeks. She was still painfully thin, but he had only recently ordered Apple to start feeding her better rations more regularly. He conjured a comfortable armchair and set it down across from her. He sat down in silence, staring at her.

Katie broke the silence first. "What do you want, Flint?"

"You should call me Marcus," he replied, shrugging. "Considering how things are."

"Considering you raped me?" she countered, voice tart. "Hardly a reason. _Flint,"_ she added, deliberately using his last name.

It didn't appear to affect him in the slightest. He merely held out her charm bracelet. "I've been looking at this little trinket, since it's obviously important to you."

"Give that back," she hissed, moving into a crouched position.

Marcus made a tsking sound with his tongue. "Demands are so unbecoming for you."

"Sodding Death Eater bastard," Katie snapped. "You give that back! It means nothing to you!"

"But everything to you, doesn't it?" he asked mildly, closing his fist around the bracelet. "So who gave it to you? Some boy in Hogwarts? Someone making a clumsy attempt to have you?"

Her cheeks flamed. "Shut up," she snapped. "Give it back," she repeated.

"Tell me who gave it to you, and maybe I'll consider it."

Katie ground her teeth together. She had to cater to the madman's whims, it seemed. "My Mum."

Marcus leaned forward. She didn't seem to be lying, though her earlier embarrassment had been amusing to see. "Your Mum, hm? Did boys ever give you gifts at Hogwarts?"

"Why are you asking?"

"Boredom," he replied easily, smiling at her. "So? Ever get anything?"

"I told you my Mum gave me that bracelet. You said you'd give it back!"

"I said I'd consider it," Marcus corrected. Katie sat back on the ground heavily, jaws clenched together and her arms tight around her knees. The tentlike gown was pulled down over her knees so that she was simply a bony wraith swathed in white. Marcus dangled the bracelet enticingly. "You didn't answer my question."

"I don't have to."

"There are a lot of pretty charms on this bracelet, aren't there?" He peered at them in the gloom. "You could probably earn a charm back."

She looked at him in loathing. "I hate you."

"Of course you do. Good little Gryffindor girls always hate the Slytherin bastards, don't they?"

It didn't sound like the words bothered him at all. He sounded utterly in control, utterly confident that she couldn't do anything to him. "I should run at you and kill you," Katie told him.

Marcus simply laughed. "I'd like to see you try."

She rushed forward, but he had been expecting her. He caught her about the throat and kept her at arm's length. She scratched down the length of his arm, her broken nails actually breaking skin. She was snarling at him, and she smelled like clotted, old blood.

"You know, if you're planning on killing someone," Marcus told her in a lazy tone of voice, "it certainly doesn't help to _tell_ them you're going to do it."

Katie kicked at the chair ineffectually, and tried to reach out to scratch at his face. "Give me back my bracelet," she nearly sobbed. "It's from my Mum."

Marcus looked at the gold bracelet lying in his other palm, then at Katie's stricken face. "Earn it."

She was simply holding onto his wrist at that point. "You're a sick freak."

"We are what we're made to be," he replied darkly, hand tightening around her throat a fraction.

For a moment she thought he was going to choke her, but he gave her a shake instead, and let go of her. She stumbled, but caught her balance. "I just want my bracelet, Flint. It's not like I can really stop you from doing whatever twisted thing you want to do."

Marcus smiled in the face of her resentful tone. "Yes, I know. But it's hardly fair, is it? Where's the fun in simply breaking you to pieces or leaving you for dead?"

It might not have been fun, but it would have been better for her peace of mind. "What do you want?" she asked tiredly. He kept toying with her, and her nerves felt frayed.

"Wank in front of me," Marcus said. It was the first thing that had come to mind.

Her cheeks flushed scarlet. "I will not!"

He laughed at her maidenly outrage. "Don't tell me you've never..." He laughed harder at her mutinous expression. "How is it that you have _never_ wanked in your life?"

"I just haven't," she said, tone mulish and defensive. "Nothing wrong with that, pervert," she snapped. She glowered as he kept laughing at her. "It's not funny."

"Of course it is," he said. "Have you even kissed a boy before I kissed you?"

"I've kissed plenty," Katie snapped. "You don't count!"

Oh, she was amusing, all right. Having to work in the family company or chat up potential Death Eater recruiters was tedious. Even during meetings and revels and raids he kept thinking of Katie and how she would respond to him. Marcus was definitely obsessed with the little failed spy, and he couldn't even put his finger on what it was about her that had him so fascinated. She was stubborn and stupid, not even pretty anymore, and defied him at every turn. Still, he found her more interesting than any of the simpering girls his father thought would make suitable matches for him. Those girls were spineless wallflowers, meant to be nothing more than brood mares left behind in the Manor. Marcus was finding that the last thing he wanted was some nameless, faceless girl. He wanted Katie.

Marcus slung one leg over the arm of the armchair. "Well, then. How far did you go with those boys you've snogged? You certainly didn't shag any."

Her flush was amusing. "None of your business!"

He would've laughed outright if she stamped her foot in her anger. "I think you should get me off," he commented, dangling the bracelet in front of her. "That'll be a good way to earn one of these little charms back."

"You're disgusting."

"You're the one telling me you're such a worldly little girl," he taunted.

"I said no such thing!" She threw up her hands. "Why am I even playing along?"

"You're bored, too," Marcus replied, smiling at her. "Face it, Princess, I'm the best part of your lonesome little day."

"That would be Apple," Katie snarled at him. "She brings me food and cleans this cell."

"She doesn't have to," Marcus said with a shrug, twirling the charm bracelet between his fingers idly. "I could tell her to just stop feeding you."

She looked at him darkly. "You said you didn't want me dead."

"Oh, I'm sure we'll figure out something, won't we, Princess?"

"Stop calling me that."

Because it irritated her, Marcus merely grinned. "Princess."

She launched herself forward and managed to get a good swing at his nose. She wasn't as strong as she was when he had first caught her. Starvation and lack of exercise had deconditioned her somewhat. But she was angry, and it gave Katie a bit extra force to her swing.

Marcus caught her hands in his, the charm bracelet pressing into the skin of the back of her hand almost painfully. "Now, Princess. Keep that up, and you'll need to be disciplined." His voice was low, almost intimate. He smiled at her mutinous look and pushed her backward. He kept hold of her bracelet and tucked into his shirt pocket. "You want your bracelet, you'll have to cooperate. And the game for today is you getting me off."

"You're sick."

"No, I'm bored. There's a difference," he corrected mildly. "I think you should use your mouth."

He could tell by her reaction to his words that she hadn't done it before, either. What a little innocent. Most of the Slytherin girls his year had experimented with each other or with the boys by the time they finished their fifth year. He found it amazing that she had managed to get to age eighteen without doing anything more than kissing a few awkward boys. Marcus smiled at her discomfiture. "I'll even give you a head start, if you like," he said, unbuttoning the front of his trousers. She looked away from him, uncomfortable. "Come now, after all we've gone through together? No need to be shy."

"I'm not doing this," Katie said, her voice shaking. "You can't make me."

"Well, we both know that's not true, Princess," Marcus replied, voice soft and with an underlying core of steel. "We both know I can take what I want from you and you can't stop me," he said, the menace clear in his tone. "I could put you in a body bind and fuck you until you can't move, then turn you over and do it again." Katie was silent, every muscle in her body taut with tension at his words. But they were a reminder, not a threat. "I could, but where's the challenge in that? I did that already."

"Sodding wanker," Katie said, glaring at him.

"I'm being as nice as I know how, Princess," Marcus told her with a smile. He patted his shirt pocket, making the bracelet jingle. "I can always keep the bracelet to remind me."

It was ridiculous, but that was Katie's last tie to the outside world. She couldn't lose it, couldn't let herself let go. It wasn't as if she could do anything if there were messages on the DA coin, or add one herself, but she still needed to see the charms and think of her parents, or her friends, or that last party just after graduation before everyone left. It had been a somber affair; with Dumbledore dead, no one had felt much like celebrating. Most of the hope had died along with their old headmaster, and too many people felt that the Death Eaters were soon going to make a move. Still, it was a time before being locked away in the dark, with only Marcus and his house elf for company.

"I want my bracelet back."

"You're not being very cooperative, then," Marcus remarked. "I told you how to get it back."

Her cheeks flamed again. "I haven't... I can't..." She stuttered, knowing he wouldn't take pity on her in the slightest. "I can't do that," she whispered, shaking her head. She could feel her own blood sticky on her thighs and wanted to cry. Marcus was such a horrid, evil bastard, and it didn't even look like he was expressly trying to be.

"Sure you can," Marcus returned easily. "First time for everything, isn't there? I think I'm being awfully accommodating for you."

"I hate you," she whispered, not able to meet his eyes. He was still lounging in the armchair, smirking at her. "I hate you so much."

"Of course you do," he agreed easily. He grinned at her discomfiture. "Better start, Princess."

Almost ashamed of herself, Katie approached him on the armchair. "How...?" she began, voice faint. He grasped her wrist in a firm grip, though it was looser than he'd grabbed her before. He dragged her hand over to the front of his trousers, then had her knuckles brush across his clothed cock. She startled at the contact, eyes flying up to his face. "What are you doing?"

"Getting you started," he replied. "You want a charm, don't you?"

She blinked back tears and nodded. With shaking fingers, she unzipped him, though there was still fabric beneath his trousers. "This is stupid."

"Giving up before you've even begun?" Marcus made a disappointed noise as he shook his head.

"I can't do this."

Marcus lifted his hips slightly. "Of course not. You'll have to pull everything off, first."

Her cheeks were still flaming, and she tugged at his trousers and boxers without meeting his eyes. She dragged them down to his knees, avoiding making any sort of eye contact with his flaccid cock. She kept thinking _I can't do this!_ yet she seemed to move without any conscious thought. She would get her bracelet back, a charm at a time, he said. She had to keep that in mind. Whatever disgusting thing he made her do, whatever he said, she had to keep thinking of getting her bracelet back. She couldn't just let go of it at this point, or he would win. Whatever it took, she couldn't let that happen.

Marcus watched her hesitant movements, managing not to make any comments. Hell, that was more fucking restraint than he had used with anyone but his father or the upper echelons of Death Eaters. Katie grasped his cock between two fingers as if it would bite her, and he wanted to shake her. He had to remind himself that she had been an innocent when he found her, one of those good girls that stayed at home and did everything they were supposed to do. The wildest side of her had probably been her Quidditch playing.

"You need to do more than just look at it," he finally said, when it seemed as though Katie was at a loss of what to do next. "I told you, use your mouth."

She looked up, that flush still across her cheeks. She stammered something that might've been an excuse, then sighed. She knelt down in front of him and took him into her mouth. Marcus gave a soft sigh and laid a hand across the back of her head. He stroked her head gently, encouragingly, as she ran her tongue along his cock and tried to figure out what to do next. Katie had heard other girls in the dorm talking about it, of course, but it was different trying to _do_ some of the things she had heard about. She moved slowly, bobbing her head up and down along his length, running her tongue along the skin. Marcus hardened in her mouth, his fingers tightening in her hair. She supposed that meant she was doing a good enough job, and kept up that rhythm.

Katie was artless but it was _Katie._ The sight of her dark head bent over him, coupled with her hands resting lightly on his thighs, was almost enough to get him hard inside her mouth. She was honestly trying to please him, and that made him start to guide her motions. She resisted at first, thinking he was trying to choke her, but she followed his lead after a moment and was rewarded with the sound of a groan of pleasure. Katie kept her eyes shut and tried not to think of where her mouth was, whose hand was in her hair. She tried not to think at all, and to just recall her bracelet if she had to think of anything at all.

When he came in her mouth, she was startled and choked. She pulled back abruptly, coughing, and scuttled backward until she fetched up against the wall. Katie looked at him with large eyes, gasping for breath, her jaw aching.

Marcus smiled at her lazily, leg still slung over the side of the armchair, trousers and boxers in a puddle in front of him. "Good start," he said, voice slightly hoarse. He dug out the bracelet from his shirt pocket. "I don't think you should have a charm," he began slowly.

"But I..."

"What's the use of a charm without a bracelet, after all?" he asked rhetorically.

Katie watched as he pulled his wand out of his sleeve and removed all the charms from the bracelet and tucked it into his shirt pocket. He held out the gold bracelet tauntingly. "Let me put it on you, Princess."

She came forward slowly, not quite trusting him. He met her gaze as he fastened the bracelet back around her wrist. He didn't let go right away, his fingers sliding across the inside of her wrist. She could feel every callus, every roughened patch of skin across his palm. "What do you want from me?" she whispered, not sure what was happening between them.

"Only everything," he replied calmly.

_Why?_ she wanted to scream at him. She settled for yanking her hand away. "You can't."

He watched her in amusement for a moment, then let his leg fall from the arm. "This is my home, and you're my prisoner in it. I can do whatever I want."

Katie watched him lean down to pull his boxers and trousers back up. She lunged forward to grab at his wand, but he caught her by her hair. It was loose, but tangled in the back. His fingers sank into the knots, and he turned his wrist so that she was forced to face him. "Don't be more stupid than you can help, Katie," he told her, voice hard and almost angry. "I'm not nearly as thick as you'd like to believe. You're alive by my sufferance."

Her eyes watered as he nearly pulled her hair from her scalp. She stumbled and fell when he pushed her aside, and she looked up at him when he stood. The armchair disappeared, and Katie looked up into his glowering face. She managed not to wince, though he looked ready to kick her or cast a curse. It would hurt, whatever he had planned, but she could tolerate it better than this sick little game he had started. Pain was temporary, and the house elf repaired whatever damage he did. Torture was easy enough to hate. Torture was simple. The terror that came from that, as awful as it was, was easy enough to identify.

But he simply stared at her, then left the cell. She felt vaguely disappointed, as if he had expected better from her, and vaguely disgusted with herself for trying to taunt him. It didn't make any sense, and she was utterly confused.

Katie preferred pain to this emotional limbo. She wondered if perhaps she was the sick one in this twisted relationship.

***

"Marcus."

Marcus turned and saw Narcissa Malfoy approaching him after the latest meeting being held in her home. Voldemort had set up permanent residence in their home, and had charged Lucius with getting his dungeons ready for future houseguests. Draco had long since been sent to school, so he was to do the task alone. Aurelius Flint, Wallace Montague and Gawain Higgs had offered to help him, and the three older men had apparated to one of Aurelius' favorite haunts to capture Muggles and Muggleborns.

Marcus inclined his head toward Narcissa. "Mrs. Malfoy."

"You didn't go with your father? Or with the others in your group?"

The others had planned to go on the pull, not that he could tell her that. He had no interest in that sort of thing any longer. Warrington and Pucey had obviously noted it, but didn't make a big deal about it. It had taken breaking Higgs' nose to get the other man to shut up.

"It wouldn't be polite to leave our hostess without an escort for the evening," Marcus said, extending his arm slightly. "Unless you were retiring for the night?"

Narcissa smiled and took his arm. "You have turned into a gallant young man, Marcus. Your mother would have been very pleased with how you turned out."

_Your father is sometimes wrong._ "I would beg to differ, Mrs. Malfoy," he murmured. "But then, she's not here to correct either of us."

Narcissa had the look of a porcelain doll, with classic features that made her seem almost dainty next to Marcus. "We will simply disagree, then," Narcissa commented, her social smile still fixed on her face. "I did wish to thank you for your help with my son."

"Draco needed a few lessons, nothing more," Marcus said with a careless shrug. "It was almost like coaching him for Quidditch again."

Draco had been nauseated by Aurelius' dungeons, and his attempts at the Cruciatus curse had been feeble at first. He had also been terrified by the thought of the Carrows taking over the Dark Arts instruction at the school; their thirst for torture was legendary even amongst the Death Eaters. Marcus taught Draco a few curses and hexes that were excruciatingly painful yet were not actual Unforgivables. He had been able to do those easily enough, and had a passable Cruciatus by the time the summer was finished and he had to return to Hogwarts.

"I appreciate the help you've given us," Narcissa murmured. "Lucius did not have the heart to give him such lessons."

"They weren't nearly as... instructive, I suppose, as my father's were to me." Marcus nodded at Bellatrix Lestrange as he guided Narcissa from the meeting room to her parlor. "But it was very necessary in the current climate."

"We had hoped he would not need such things," Narcissa said faintly. "He's my only son."

Marcus didn't point out that he was Aurelius' only son as well. They both knew that Aurelius and the Carrows took torture duty very seriously, and that Aurelius' idea of proper behavior was very exacting. "He'll do well enough at school now."

"How is the Flint family business, then?"

He smiled mirthlessly at Narcissa. "Flourishing, of course. Father wouldn't accept anything less."

"He is... disciplined," Narcissa offered.

Marcus inclined his head. "A necessity, isn't it? There are few things to recommend us otherwise. I do know Father's been putting out feelers along the marriage mart."

Narcissa gave him a knowing smile. "You don't approve."

"Simpering wallflowers aren't my type."

"Well, you're a capable young man in your own right. You don't have to take his suggestions."

"I wasn't planning on it," Marcus told her wryly. "I should get back to the others," he told her, nodding. "There might be a gathering for some of the younger members."

"Perhaps you could visit Draco at the school? I know he wouldn't appreciate a visit from me in front of his friends, but perhaps you could visit? And at the next meeting, you could let me know how he's getting along there."

"The new regime shouldn't be too difficult for him to adjust to," Marcus replied, shrugging. "With Snape as Headmaster and the other key positions taken by some of ours..."

"He's my only son," Narcissa repeated firmly. "I would rather be sure."

"And they wouldn't let Lucius on the grounds," Marcus guessed.

She gave him a mirthless smile. "Lucius is to be watched. But you're respected enough in most circles to come and go as you please."

"I'm hardly worthy of such trust," Marcus told her, eyebrow raised.

"Our families were close once, you remember." Marcus nodded stiffly. That had stopped after his mother died, of course. Aurelius was in competition with Lucius for most Death Eater support, and didn't enjoy losing to Lucius. "I would appreciate it if you could look after him in situations were we can't," Narcissa murmured. "Draco is a young man, and he can't rely on his parents in all things anymore. I've perhaps coddled him more than I should have."

"As you said, he's your only son," Marcus murmured.

Narcissa smiled at Marcus fondly. "Thank you for indulging me, then."

"As you said, our families were close once. To speak plainly, my father doesn't lose gracefully."

"Neither does Lucius," Narcissa replied wryly. "Thank you, Marcus. I thought of asking Pucey or Warrington, but they don't seem... responsible? If that's a good word to use."

They were his friends, but Marcus understood what Narcissa meant. Their parents didn't instill hard edges into them the way Aurelius had with him. They wouldn't have been able to try to shape Draco the way he would need to be to survive their new world.

Marcus nodded at her. "I understand. We're encouraged to be mentors, after all."

Narcissa looked past Marcus toward her sister, who was coming into the room. "Bella."

Bellatrix looked between Narcissa and Marcus. "An assignation, Cissy? I'm shocked," she said, her laugh a crazed titter. "So not like you at all."

"Hardly," Narcissa bristled. She was utterly devoted to Lucius and her son, everyone knew that.

"She asked me to mentor Draco," Marcus told Bellatrix with a formal nod. "I've agreed."

Bellatrix smiled at Marcus, though it was more of a stretching of lips and a baring of teeth. She had been beautiful once, but Azkaban and intense devotion had burned away the softness that had once been in her. She had a brittle kind of beauty now, the way edged weapons could be beautiful. The crazed element within her was off putting. "So kind of you."

"Our Lord asks that we mentor others," Marcus replied. He knew she was gifted at Ligilmency and Occlumency, and that she had been trying to teach the art to Draco. She was trying to push at his mind, to sift through his memories to find an untruth. He thought of Quidditch, of flying in the air and the feel of the wind rushing past as he went after the quaffle.

Bellatrix inclined her head at him and slid an arm around his shoulders in an intimate gesture he wasn't entirely comfortable with. "That he does. And do you need a mentor?" she asked, her voice suggesting more than he ever wanted to consider.

"My father has seen fit to train me," Marcus responded in an even tone, "and he hasn't felt that it was lacking in any way."

"Ah, your _father,"_ Bellatrix said, her lip curling in distaste. She withdrew her arm abruptly and turned to stalk out of the room. "Your mother was a little nothing," Bellatrix said, flouncing out of the room.

Marcus and Narcissa looked at each other in amusement. "She never did like losing either," Narcissa remarked, shaking her head. "Seems to be common in our lot."

Marcus agreed, and Narcissa smiled as Marcus left the room as well. She knew the Flints were also interested in self preservation, so Draco was in good hands.

***  
***


	6. Moving Beyond Boundaries

Marcus looked over the awards and the photographs of the Quidditch House teams from years past as he waited for Draco. He easily made out Katie Bell in the Gryffindor House team photo, mugging for the camera and wedged beside Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson or the Weasley twins. She had a genuine smile in the photographs, her hair up in a high ponytail as she waved while holding a broom. Her seventh year was different, however. He could see it right away in the photograph. Her grip on the broom was tighter, as if she needed it for balance. Her smile wasn't as wide though it was still bright and enthusiastic. She looked more tired, exhausted, like there was a weight on her. He knew now that she had been tortured by the Eye of Herat that year, had lost nearly six months of school. She probably had to work twice as hard to graduate on time, and likely had to practice twice as long to be even half as good as she had once been. He remembered how easily she had shrugged off being hit during the game, despite Madam Hooch's complaints about her petite frame. "It's Quidditch," she had scoffed. "If I can't take a hit, I don't belong out on the pitch."

She probably didn't realize that her words would carry the same weight in working for the Order.

"There you are," Draco said, coming into the awards room. Marcus turned and was surprised to see him alone. The surprise must have registered, because he looked chagrined. "Crabbe and Goyle had other things to do."

"Aren't they with you at all times?"

"Used to be," Draco replied darkly, his brows knit together tightly. After a moment, he smoothed his features. Marcus nodded his approval. "I didn't expect your owl."

"Your mother requested it." Marcus had to smile at the look that passed over Draco's features. "You don't think she should have meddled?"

Draco sighed. "She was probably right. She was right last year, too."

Marcus nodded. He'd heard about it, of course. Everyone had heard about that battle, how it was Snape that had killed Dumbledore. Draco had isolated the Headmaster, but details from there were fuzzy on how he hadn't been able to kill the old man. Marcus had always thought that Draco didn't have it in him. He was a brat, but he was no killer.

"Where are we going, then? Your father's..." Draco pulled a face and tried to think of something nice to say about the Flint dungeons.

"Not hardly," Marcus snapped. "This isn't going to be that kind of mentorship. You know enough to survive for the moment, that's good enough."

"Then what is this?" Draco eyed Marcus warily, taking in the fact that he was standing in front of the Gryffindor case of photos. "Why are you really here?"

"The thing that will let you live is finding out where your strengths are. We already know your weakness, don't we?" Marcus said, his voice slicing through Draco's suspicions like a knife. The boy paled but nodded. "We're meeting Pucey, Montague and Warrington. We're going to start small with you, see how it goes."

"What are you planning?"

"You've a clever enough mind when you choose to use it," Marcus replied instead. "So that's where we're going to start. You've always had Crabbe and Goyle to do the dirty work for you, so that's why it's so difficult. But as our Lord says, we all have a place. It's just a matter of finding yours and getting you good at it."

Draco nodded unhappily. He flicked a glance from Marcus to the glass case behind him. "Is there someone I should be looking out for, then?"

"No," Marcus said abruptly. "Look sharp and keep your mouth shut until you figure out what we're doing. Got it? And so help me, if you bollocks this up, I'll tear a strip off your back for it if you even survive it."

Draco had no doubt he meant it literally.

They arrived in a small village in Wales. Draco kept his mouth shut and listened, as Marcus told him to. He knew that a lot of top Death Eaters often worked that way, and saw it as a method to weed out the weak and idiotic. The four men all were silent and dour as they moved through the streets toward a house in a side street of the village. It was quiet, almost too quiet, and Draco was unnerved by it. Warrington had taken the lead, with Pucey and Montague next. Marcus shoved Draco ahead of him to bring up the rear of the group.

Warrington pounded three times on the door to the house at the end of the side street. There was an answer from within, something in Welsh, and Warrington replied in a scathing tone of voice. An old woman, her back stooped with age and heavy work, opened the door. Warrington spoke with her imperiously, then pushed her aside when she didn't move fast enough. Pucey and Montague followed Warrington inside, and Draco went in as well. Marcus stepped just inside the threshold, but stayed near the door. He nodded at the old woman, and gestured for her to close the door as she normally would.

Warrington had gone into the sitting area of the small house. An old man was there, reading the Prophet with shaking hands. The entire area was dingy, and smelled faintly of cabbages and cats. "Hullo, Davenport," he said, though his voice wasn't kind at all. He towered over the old man, dark eyes snapping with impatience. "Did you really think we wouldn't find you? That we wouldn't know about this place?"

The old man put down the paper, though his hands continued to shake. Draco wondered if it was because of age or fear and couldn't decide. He noted that Pucey and Montague had gone into the back of the house, and he flicked a glance at Marcus. Marcus wasn't looking at him at all, but keeping an eye on the door. There was a small window in it, and he could see the side street clearly from where he stood. The old woman was standing a few feet away, looking uncertain at the old man and Warrington. Draco decided to stay put and keep an eye on the old woman. There was something about her eyes that didn't sit right.

Warrington picked up the old man easily. "Where is it, Davenport?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "You don't steal from the Dark Lord and think you can get away with it."

"I didn't take nuffink," Davenport said, and Draco could see that that it was fear making him shake now. Draco swung his eyes back to the old woman, who was watching the tableau avidly. He thought perhaps she was standing a bit straighter now, her jaw set tightly. Draco moved closer to the old woman and placed his hand on her arm gently. She swung startled eyes at him, and he could see that they looked much too young to be in such an old woman's face.

"Perhaps you'd feel better sitting down, ma'am," Draco said in a low tone, gesturing toward an overstuffed armchair near where they were standing. "You look very tired."

The woman was clearly nervous, and licked her lips. "It's fine, I'll stand."

Her voice was young. Much too young. Draco's touch on her arm tightened a fraction, rather like Marcus had done to his shoulder or arm many a time as a subtle warning. "Please. I insist."

The woman couldn't think of a good enough excuse, and let Draco guide her to the chair as Warrington shook Davenport. Draco kept a hand on her shoulder, patting it absently. The woman kept her hands together in plain sight, but they were clenched tightly together.

"I've got it!" Pucey called out, coming back into the room. He was carrying a wrapped package in both hands very carefully.

Warrington smiled at Davenport. "And you said you didn't steal?" he asked, his voice carrying a threat in it. His smile was cruel and edged, and Draco suddenly felt very sorry for Davenport. His hand tightened on the woman's shoulder when she unclasped her hands and seemed to reach for her sleeve. "Don't," he warned her softly.

Montague returned, his lip split and blood on his sleeve. "Found Fanning."

The woman gasped and Davenport let out a wail. Warrington dropped him and quickly uttered the cruciatus curse. The woman lurched forward, reaching out for the man, and Draco quickly pulled her back into the chair. "Don't," he warned her in a firmer tone.

Warrington nodded at Draco, a pleased look on his face. He lifted the curse from Davenport and then nodded at the door after looking at Pucey and Montague. "Time to go. Are we clear?" he called out, clearly indicating Marcus.

"Clear for now. I'll check," Marcus intoned. He opened the door cautiously and stepped out into the side street. When nothing happened, he looked back inside. "Nothing triggered yet."

Warrington glared at Davenport and the woman. "And if you're smart and want to stay alive, nothing will after we've gone. You've gotten off lightly, Davenport, you know that." The man was sobbing on the floor, his hair no longer as white as it had once been. Draco let go of the woman and let her run to the man. He followed the others out and closed the door behind them once they got into the street. They apparated to Pucey's home, and he was sent to discuss the wrapped item with Bellatrix. Montague went to report to Yaxley, who had first told them about the theft and ordered the item's return.

"Well done," Warrington mentioned, looking at Draco. He smirked at Marcus. "Definitely reeked of your style, Flint."

"I simply told him to be clever," Flint remarked with a smile.

Warrington laughed and dug a flask out of his robes. He took a pull and then tossed it at Draco. "Well, you've a sharp eye, that's for sure. I didn't think the woman would be involved. What let you know?"

"Her eyes," Draco replied. "And the way she stood there watching you."

Warrington nodded. "Higgs definitely would've missed that," he groused. He laughed when Draco pulled a face after taking a pull from the flask. "I suppose this mentorship of yours will be going well, then, Flint?"

"I suppose. Point men are important to train up properly. Anyone can be a thug like Higgs."

Warrington's lip curled. "Is that competition I hear? You know he still thinks you're thick."

"It's deliberate," Flint replied with a shrug. "But he should've known better from school."

"There was a reason why we always won the Quidditch cup before that Potter brat showed up," Warrington agreed with a nod. He took his flask back from Draco. "Well, now that he's gone, things should go a bit easier on us all." He looked over at Draco. "Flint's got a point. Higgs went on with a new group, and we've all worked best with five. You saw why today."

"I could use further training," Draco remarked noncommittally. Warrington laughed and Flint merely smirked approvingly in his direction.

Draco thought perhaps he understood Marcus' point now. If he simply kept his mouth shut and did as he was told, he could fade into the background. No one would think of him as a failure, and he might actually get something done well. It wasn't glamorous and wasn't anything like what he thought it would be, but he had chosen this. This was the only way to make sure that his family stayed alive in the coming years.

***

Katie was doing sit ups in the cell when Marcus walked in. He supposed that she had to fill up her time somehow, and something was keeping her from being completely deconditioned. After getting praised by Yaxley and having the Dark Lord's artifact safely tucked away in Bellatrix Lestrange's vault at Gringott's, Marcus was feeling fairly upbeat.

Katie stopped what she was doing and warily got to her feet. She could feel the difference in Marcus' behavior, but didn't trust its cause. "What do you want?"

"You think so ill of me, don't you?" he asked, coming forward. He grasped the back of her head in one hand and her waist with the other. "What if all I want is your company?"

Her hands were on his chest, pushing him back. All she could think to ask was _Why?_ and all she could think of was his hands around her throat or his fingers pushing her thighs apart. She flinched when he pressed closer, and turned her head to the side. Marcus pressed a kiss to her temple, then moved the hand at her waist to cup her bottom. He lifted her up, then backed her up against the wall for balance. Katie shoved at his chest, but Marcus was a solid wall of muscle that she couldn't move. She turned to face him, knowing that her fear was evident on her face, and he simply leaned in and captured her mouth with his.

Katie thought of biting his lip, of curling her hands into claws and gouging at his throat. But the pressure against her lips wasn't punishing or hurtful. It was soft, almost sweet, almost reminding her of congratulatory kisses she'd had after Quidditch matches back at Hogwarts. She could feel tears begin to form behind her eyes, and she blinked them back. She didn't want to cry in front of him, didn't want to give him any more to torture her with.

Marcus simply kissed her, waiting until she softened against him, until she stopped being so wary of it. When her lips parted ever so slightly, he traced them with his tongue. Katie made a soft whining noise deep in the back of her throat, a noise of surprise and confusion. He risked sliding his tongue further between her lips, touching her teeth and the tip of her tongue. She gasped, her mouth opening wider, and Marcus took the opportunity to stroke her tongue gently with his own. He ended the kiss slowly, then looked at her dazed expression smugly. "Not everything has to be awful, Princess."

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, an almost plaintive note to her voice.

"I had a good day today," Marcus told her with a smile. "Nobody died. Well, nobody important, anyway. I didn't bother to ask if Fanning's still alive."

"Who?" Katie asked faintly, wondering if this was going to be the day Marcus killed her.

"Gideon Fanning. Not terribly important, but idiot enough to think that he could steal from the Dark Lord and survive it. He got his sister and brother-in-law to hide him, but we found them and got the trinket back with a minimum of fuss. It went rather well, actually. I thought Fanning would've had traps set, but none were around. He really was an idiot."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Marcus took in her pale face and the slight tremor in her lips. To anyone else, she might have looked stoic and unaffected. But he knew her tells by now, knew she was upset. He shifted the hand at the back of her head so that he could stroke the corner of her lip with his thumb. "It's not as though you have anyone to tell," he said softly. "And this is the way the world is now."

"So you're going to kill me, then?" Katie asked, glad that her voice wasn't shaking. "You've no use for me and can't get any information out of me..."

"I've stopped asking you anything for a long time now, Katie," Marcus murmured. "If you ever knew anything, it would've stopped being useful not long after I caught you. Information is really only useful when it's fresh." He kept tracing the outline of her lip with his thumb. "But, enough of this. I did promise you a reward for being nice, didn't I?"

Katie looked at him dubiously. "What are you talking about?"

Marcus lowered her down to the floor, then caught the wrist bound in the gold chain. Apple arrived when he called, and he instructed the elf to bring a few things. The elf returned with a silver brush, mirror and comb set on a silver tray. The charms from her charm bracelet were also on the tray. "I'll even let you choose which charm you get to keep now."

Katie looked from the charms on the tray to Marcus' impassive face. She hesitantly reached out for where she had seen the DA coin and snatched it up by feel. He held out his hand patiently, and she reluctantly put the charm into his open palm. Katie was surprised when he actually attached it to the bracelet. Marcus didn't let her wrist go right away, his fingers stroking the inside of her arm. "If you're a good girl, you'll get the other charms back, too. But first things first. We have to take care of that hair of yours."

She knew it was a knotted mess in the back, but at this point it almost served as a pillow. She stepped back, distrust etched onto her features. Marcus pulled her back toward him, and she crashed into his chest. Without a word he transfigured the straw pallet into a proper mattress, and indicated that she should sit. Biting her lip, Katie followed the unspoken direction. He seemed to be in a good mood. Perhaps if she could get his wand away from him...

Marcus tugged on the shapeless nightgown. "Take that off," he commanded.

"Wh-what?" she asked, startled. That had nothing to do with her hair. But his expression was stony, and he simply stared at her. Though her fingers twitched all the while, she finally drew the gown up and over her head. She watched Marcus toss it aside and resisted the urge to cover herself from his gaze. She was completely naked, perched on the edge of the mattress.

He simply sat down beside her and took the comb from the silver tray that Apple continued to hold out for him. He had been surprised at the sight of the set, but supposed that Apple took one that no one would miss. The elf left at his command, leaving the silver tray and its contents behind as he wished. Marcus gently turned her sideways on the mattress and began to patiently detangle her hair as best as he could with the comb. He was surprisingly gentle, and Katie bit her lip to keep from screaming at him in her confusion. "Why not use a spell?" she asked after several minutes.

"This is soothing, isn't it?" he countered, picking apart a wicked snarl. He had perhaps a quarter of the tangles done, and the tension wasn't nearly so evident in her shoulders.

"My Mum combed my hair when I was little," Katie murmured, then clamped her lips shut. She hadn't meant to tell him anything about herself.

"This used to be my Mum's," Marcus told her in a tone just as quiet as hers.

She didn't know what to say in response to that, so she simply stayed silent as he worked his way through the knots in the rest of her hair. He tried not to tug too hard, and his arms or fingers would brush across her bare shoulders. She could feel his clothed shin pressing up against her backside as he sat there behind her. There was no need for her to be naked through this, so she could only assume that he simply wanted to stare at her skin. Katie closed her eyes and tried to pretend it was her mother working through the knots, her mother combing her hair and then her mother bringing the brush through her hair once it was loose.

Katie didn't even realize she was crying until she felt Marcus' fingers brush across her wet cheeks. She jerked away, her eyes flying open, and she rubbed at her face hastily. His expression was unreadable as he simply cupped her face in his palm, his other hand sliding down her arm and making her shiver at the contact. He leaned forward and kissed her again, his mouth hot and open over hers. Startled, she found herself kissing back, his shirt caught in her fists. When Marcus broke the kiss, he silently moved down to her neck. Katie's breath caught when he licked at her collarbone, then pressed his lips up against her sternum. She didn't fight him when he pulled her down to the bed so that she was lying on her back. She didn't fight him when he took a breast into his mouth, rolling her nipple across his tongue. She let go of his shirt and caught the sheet in her fists, gasping for breath as the sensation shot through her.

Marcus continued down the length of her body until he came to the juncture of her thighs. He nudged her legs open, and Katie trembled as she moved them for him. He didn't look up at her, didn't want to see her worry and helpless fear. Marcus touched his tongue to her clit as he tilted her hips up so he had better access. She sucked in a breath at the sensation, soft and wet and entirely too good to possibly be real. Or maybe this was the point, to make it feel this good before he hurt her so badly she couldn't remember anything else. But right that second, Katie could only feel the way his tongue made lazy circles around her clit. She whimpered, fingers digging into the sheet on the mattress tightly as she gasped.

Marcus simply kept his eyes closed as he worked her clit with his tongue, breathing in the scent of her. He could feel the tremors in her thighs, hear her strangled gasps of pleasure. She moaned as he slid a finger inside her, head thrown back and back arching slightly. When she moved one hand to touch the back of his head almost tentatively, he smiled against her folds and then sucked on her clit all the harder. She cried out, tightening around his finger as she came.

He slid off his clothes and then thrust into her. She was fluttering all around his cock, gasping for breath. Katie opened her eyes and looked up at him, a vulnerable expression on her face. Marcus didn't say anything, but simply began to move above her. He used long, careful strokes at first, then quickened his pace when her breath caught. She watched his face, her mouth falling open as she gasped in pleasure, her hands tangled in the sheets. Marcus grasped one of her hands and threaded his fingers through hers, dragging it up beside her head. She tightened her grip on his hand, arching her hips to meet his thrusts. He moved faster, knowing he was close to coming, and used his other hand to stroke at her clit. She gasped, her entire body tightening in response to his touch, and came in a few more strokes. The sensation was enough to make him come, spilling inside of her with a groan.

Katie lay still on the mattress beneath him, her entire body still thrumming from her release. He moved as soon as his breath evened out, and she stayed where she was, watching him dress. His back was to her, and she couldn't tell what his expression was. Was he congratulating himself on having her without a fight? Had this been about a power struggle or something more?

"Is there something you want?" he asked, and her insides ran cold at his indifferent tone. His face was as impassive as a mask when he turned to face her. "You should pick something."

There were plenty of things she wanted. Better food, actual clothes, the rest of her charms for her bracelet, to see the sun again, her wand, letting her friends and parents know she was still alive, to get the hell out of the dungeon... Katie pushed herself up to a sitting position with some difficulty. "Actual meals, maybe," she said, her voice almost raspy.

He nodded, indifferent. He strode over to where he had thrown the nightgown and picked it up. It was rather flimsy fabric, and he rubbed it between his fingers absently. He turned and handed it back to Katie, seeing the goose flesh start to rise on her arms and legs. He watched her put it on, her arms trembling slightly, his come streaked across her thighs.

"What would your parents think of you, Flint?" she asked as he headed toward the cell door.

He paused, then turned around with a sardonic smile. "You forget what I am, don't you, Katie?" he asked, sarcasm lacing his words. "My father would wonder why I haven't killed you yet, why I haven't left you a broken and bleeding mess to be discarded. As far as my father is concerned, you'd be no better than any Muggle for siding with them."

Katie swallowed nervously, suppressing a shiver. "And your Mum?" she asked hoarsely when he simply stared at her, not moving.

"Hard to say. She's been dead a long time."

"I'm sorry," she murmured automatically.

"Are you, really?" he asked, lips twisting into something that was more of a grimace than a smile. "After all this?"

"It's the thing to say."

"So's asking how it happened," Marcus told her, his lip curling in derision. Katie somehow knew it wasn't directed at her. "But no one asks that."

"Why not?" she asked, wrapping her arms around herself.

He snorted at her, but she couldn't possibly know. They didn't travel in the same circles, and it wasn't as if whispers proved anything. "Because I think my father killed her."

Her eyes were wide as saucers. He supposed in her happy little world things like that simply didn't happen. People didn't go missing to be tortured or left for dead. Fathers didn't kill mothers and children didn't get trained to do unspeakable things to other people. Her world was being destroyed from the inside out. He was doing her a favor by keeping her here; anyone else would have killed her as soon as they found her.

He left the cell quietly. Just as well she had been shocked to silence. There was really nothing else left to say.

***  
***


	7. Preparing For The Future

Transfigured items, no matter how well done, generally reverted to their original state sooner or later. Katie woke up on a straw pallet covered in a tangled sheet, straw poking at her arms and sticking out of her hair. She pushed herself up to a sitting position and rubbed at her eyes wearily. The silver tray with the comb, brush and mirror was still lying on the floor near her pallet. It almost taunted her, as if she had earned it by lying back and allowing Marcus to take whatever he wanted. Though it hadn't been a particular hardship at the time, and she could still almost feel his touch along her skin.

Apple apparating into the cell had woken her. The elf was carrying a large food tray and made a small table and chair appear in one corner of the cell, opposite her little pallet. Warily, Katie approached it and let Apple do whatever it was she was doing.

Her mouth watered when the cover to the tray was lifted. Pancakes, bacon, eggs and sausage, as well as a small glass of pumpkin juice and milk. And actual silverware.

Katie tucked in, aware that Apple was watching her. There was no stealing the silverware to use on Marcus later. The elf frowned at her until she put all the silverware back where it belonged when she was done. Still, she was feeling delightfully full, and it had been her first real meal in months. Apple didn't even bother to remove the table and chair.

She was still bored. Maybe less frightened, definitely less hungry, but no less bored or angry about this whole mess.

Katie put her head over her arms on the table with a soft sigh. The DA coin winked at her, still green and with indecipherable messages on it. At least she had real meals at regular intervals to ease the boredom. And brushing her hair. Or combing it. Or looking at her pathetic reflection in the hand mirror.

Maybe her next request should be a pack of playing cards.

***

Marcus arrived that evening, just as Katie was finishing dinner. Apple visibly disapproved of Katie's hand tightening on the knife, and whisked away the silverware quickly. She disappeared and reappeared with a large old fashioned tub filled with scented water. Katie looked from the tub to Marcus, and slowly rose from the table. "What's this?"

"Well, continual Scouring charms can't be pleasant," Marcus replied easily. He smiled at her discomfiture, at the way she stood behind the chair, the back of it in her white knuckled grip as if it could defend her from him. "And the last time I mentioned bathing, you didn't seem to appreciate it. Probably because of the bucket."

"Probably because you were leering at me like a pervert," Katie snapped in response.

Marcus reached out and took the chair from her, then turned it around to sit on it. He lounged there, legs spread wide. "I've already seen you naked, Princess," he told her with a grin. "And the tub should be nice enough. See how thoughtful I am?"

Katie suppressed a shiver. A bath would be heavenly, but the idea of him _watching_ her...

Marcus stood as Apple reappeared again, carrying a pile of washcloths and towels. He reached out and plucked a piece of straw from her hair. "Missed one."

She shied away slightly. "I was trying to use it to tie off my hair, but it didn't work."

"Apple, go find her some ribbons or something for her hair," Marcus said, taking the towels and placing them on the table. The elf bowed and disappeared. "I can help scrub your back," he told Katie, coming closer. She backed up a step, then realized that she was backing up toward the tub and would simply fall into it. "I'll help you undress if need be."

Swallowing uneasily, Katie shook her head. The last time he'd undressed her was to rip the garment off of her body. She pulled the nightgown off with shaking fingers, then carefully stepped into the tub. Marcus pulled the chair close to the tub and sat down heavily in it. He passed Katie one of the washcloths, his fingers lingering as they brushed over her arm. She took a steadying breath but started scrubbing at her chest and arms. It wasn't a particularly sensual move, so Marcus took another cloth and dipped it into the water. "What are you doing?" Katie gasped, her eyes wide with alarm.

He smiled at her, an awkward grimace of a smile, and it did nothing to settle her nerves. He brought the cloth down to her leg, along the inside of her thigh. "Helping."

"I don't need help," Katie protested, sitting up. "It's bad enough if you just watch..."

Marcus dragged the cloth down the inner part of her thigh to her knee. He dipped the cloth behind the back of her knee, then continued down the inside of her calf to her ankle. He moved the cloth over her ankle in circles, the inside of his wrist along the sole of her foot. She jerked at the contact, her breath shallow, and he smirked at her. "Seems to me that it's better if I do more than just watch, hm?"

Katie pressed her lips together for a moment to keep from whimpering at his touch. This was sick, wasn't it? Wrong on so many levels. "Maybe I'm done now," she whispered.

Marcus leaned closer so that his face was inches from hers. "Coward."

_I am what you made me,_ she thought, and her insides twisted painfully. She was supposed to be brave and strong, not cowering and afraid. But all she'd been since she arrived was afraid, and it was almost uncomfortable not to be. Katie closed her eyes and drew in a breath to try to steady her nerves. In that moment, Marcus leaned in and kissed her, his free hand moving to grasp the back of her neck to keep her from moving away.

Katie pushed against his chest as his lips touched hers, but as his tongue slid into her mouth her hands tightened on his shirt instead. She ignored the voice in the back of her head telling her that she was sick and stupid, that he was going to do nothing but hurt her. Marcus still held onto her after breaking the kiss, his thumb brushing across her jaw gently. If she asked him why he was doing this, would he simply answer "Because I can?"

Marcus drew her up to a sitting position, his gaze following her bare chest. Katie grasped one of the washcloths floating in the water and thought about covering herself. "Lean forward," Marcus told her, moving just out of her peripheral vision. Katie found herself leaning slightly forward, and having to grasp the sides of the tub and kneel in order to do so. She turned her head to see what Marcus was doing, and blanched when she saw his clothes in a pile beside the tub. He merely smiled at her as he stepped in behind her. "Very good," he murmured, a hand coming to rest on her shoulder. His other hand was at her hip, and he slid it upward along her spine. He then swept her dark hair over the other shoulder so that he could lean forward and press his lips to the curve where her shoulder met her neck.

Breath hitching in her chest, Katie held onto the tub in a white knuckled grip. "What do you want?" she asked, her voice steadier than she felt.

"It's been a long day, hasn't it?" Marcus murmured against her shoulder. The hand at her other shoulder slid down her arm and then covered her hand where it gripped the edge of the tub. His right hand had slid back down to her hip when he head leaned forward. "Isn't it nice to have a relaxing bath? Hm?"

"This isn't relaxing," Katie replied.

He laughed against her skin, and she could feel his chest shake against her back. "Oh, it isn't?" he asked, amused. "Did we do something wrong, then?"

"I'd be relaxed if I wasn't here and if I was back home."

"Try again, Princess," Marcus murmured, moving so that his lips were directly over her pulse point. He could feel it against his lip, strong and steady. She was afraid of him, still, but not willing to let it control her. Good. He liked that about her. Marcus slid the hand at her hip forward, across her lower abdomen.

Katie sucked in a breath unsteadily, nearly shivering inside his arms. Marcus moved his hand still lower, so that his fingertips touched the curls between her legs. He stroked her clit slowly at first, then harder when she shivered and tried to stifle a moan of pleasure. "Let me hear you," he murmured against her ear. "I want to hear you enjoy this."

She wanted to shout at him that he was a filthy, sick pervert, but all that came out was a strangled moan as she leaned her head back against his shoulder. She came almost suddenly, her body clenching down around nothing, and she bit back a sob. She wanted _more,_ damn him all to hell, and he seemed to know it even without her telling him. Marcus moved and pulled her hips back, then entered her in a single swift thrust. He slid that right hand back to her hip, pulling her against him to make each thrust deeper into her. Katie closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the cool porcelain of the tub. She didn't think about the way she was pushing back to meet his thrusts, the way she moaned as his right hand moved across her abdomen to cup a breast. He rolled her nipple between his fingers, pinching lightly, and she shuddered and came again, clenching tight around his cock. She could hear Marcus groan behind her, felt him pull back slightly and then slam that much harder into her.

She was collapsed against the side of the tub, her breathing uneven, her white knuckled grip on the sides of the tub the only thing keeping her upright. Katie could feel it when he came inside of her, and she squeezed her eyes shut when his hands came to cover hers. Marcus dropped his chin to her shoulder, and it felt so impossibly comforting and disturbing at once. "That definitely felt more relaxing, Katie," he murmured. She could almost hear the smug smile in his voice, the self assured bastard. "I think you feel more relaxed now."

Katie couldn't even come up with anything vile to spit at him. Whatever she thought of him, how much of that could she apply to herself now? What kind of pervert was she turning into that she actually enjoyed his touch?

Marcus stroked her wrist gently as his breathing evened out. It was an oddly protective gesture, though Katie didn't know if she was simply reading more into it. He took up one of her hands and ran his fingers over her palm and fingers. "If your hands are wrinkly, the rest of you must be more so by now," he said, a smile in his voice. "And the warming charm on the water's starting to wear off. Might as well step out, now."

She kept her head averted when he stepped out of the tub and reached for a towel. He chuckled, probably at the lingering vestiges of propriety she clung to. Katie started to push herself up to get out of the tub, and was startled to feel his hand on her wrist. She looked at him in surprise as he helped her out of the tub, then extended a towel toward her. He had one slung low around his waist and was still dripping onto the floor. Katie saw the way his toes curled in, the cold stone a bit too cold after the warmth of the bath. She pulled the towel tight around herself, feeling silly for feeling shy around him. He'd seen everything, as he pointed out. And she certainly wasn't an innocent anymore, was she?

"So what is it that you'd like this time?" Marcus asked, rubbing a towel along her arms. He sounded so very ordinary, as if this sort of thing happened all the time. He simply had a girl trapped in his basement and he was bartering sexual favors for creature comforts. The girl just didn't realize how very commonplace it was.

"Can't you let me go home? I promise I won't say anything," she whispered, voice shaking. "I won't tell anyone about this."

"Of course you won't," Marcus told her. "You're still going to be here after I get back from hols."

Absolutely still, Katie replayed that again in her mind. "Hols?" she finally squeaked.

"Mm-hm. It's December already. My father and I will be away at least through Twelfth Night, if not later. Dreary nonsense, really." He leaned forward, pulling her body flush next to his and smiled against her neck. "Will you miss me, then?"

"Hols," Katie whispered, blinking back tears that threatened to form. She'd been trapped that long? No wonder he felt so confident. She'd been there months and there had been no outcry, no one to come looking for her.

"Are you sure you don't want anything?" He had his lips by her ear. "You can have something extra for hols."

"I had a birthday," Katie found herself saying dumbly. Was this shock?

"Really? When was that?" he asked, pulling at the towel.

"The twenty-third of August," Katie whispered. "I turned eighteen."

Katie was startled by the feel of his right hand along her stomach, his left cupping a breast. "I should get you a present, then," Marcus murmured. "Something nice. Anything you want?"

_I want to go home,_ Katie thought, feeling tears slip past her eyelids. But where was home anymore? Her childhood home was gone, sold to finance the trip overseas. Her parents rented a two bedroom flat now, and she supposed that was home, even if she didn't feel as though it was. In her dreams, she still had her childhood home and her bedroom with Quidditch posters and her books and pictures of relatives and friends from Hogwarts.

Marcus turned her around in his arms and cradled her as she cried. When the tears slowed and she sniffled, he simply stroked the back of her head gently. "What _can_ I get for you?"

"A real bed?" Katie asked, sniffling. "Wait, no, I should ask for something better."

He frowned when she couldn't meet his eyes. He didn't know what she was thinking, what had prompted her tears. Though possibly realizing she had spent her birthday in captivity had done it, and remembering how badly he had beaten her on a daily basis in the beginning. Marcus kept stroking her hair, pushing aside the urge to shake her. "What else, then?"

"Clothes? It's still cold here." Her voice was small, and she kept staring off at a point past his elbow on the wall. "Or something to do. It's dark and boring. Or my bracelet..."

Marcus picked up her right wrist, with the gold bracelet and the single charm on it. He caught her eyes and very slowly brought her hand up to his mouth. He dropped a kiss onto her palm. "So three things, then? For today and your birthday and hols?"

Katie still looked ready to cry again. "Why are you doing this?" she whispered. "Why are you keeping me here?"

"You belong to me," Marcus murmured, his breath warm against her palm. "You realize that by now, don't you?" he asked, lowering her hand to her side.

"You can't own somebody," Katie insisted.

He smiled at her, then dropped a kiss onto the top of her head. "Maybe not the way the world used to be, no."

"Not ever," she insisted. "It's wrong."

"But things are changing now, Princess. Potter's gone, the Ministry belongs to us, and no one put up any fuss when you went missing. How many others do you think have gone missing without a word? How many dead or gone?" Katie shivered at his words and held herself tightly, not daring to look at him. Marcus wrapped his arms around her, and she thought it was a mockery of what love and support must be. "You're mine, Katie. No one will ever hurt you."

"No one else, you mean?" she asked, her lips against his chest. She could probably bite him, unfold her arms to scratch at him. But her heart wasn't in it, and she simply stood there when he let her go and began to dress.

"Even I haven't done that in months," Marcus said, tilting her chin so that she was looking at him again. "I don't have to, do I?"

Katie stepped back and lowered her eyes, wrapping her arms around herself again. She shook her head silently, ashamed of herself. She wasn't going to fight him, was she? What was the point in it, if there was nowhere to go and nothing to do?

"I'll be back in a few weeks. I'll cut my travels short if I can, but it all depends on what my orders are," Marcus told her. "Apple will continue to see to your needs while I'm away."

Katie had no reply for that. He left in silence, and Katie wrapped herself in towels before sitting down at the table. She didn't know what to think, what she could do.

Apple later exchanged the pallet for an actual bed, and arrived with a set of clothes that looked tailored to her petite frame. When the elf brought a lamp and a pack of playing cards, Katie wrapped her arms even tighter around herself and began to cry.

***

"You've been disappearing a lot," Aurelius remarked to Marcus at dinner. "I assume you're still prepared for the holding at Nott's home."

"Of course," Marcus replied. He took a sip of his wine and continued to eat dinner as if he hadn't just been challenged by his father. That usually ended badly, and he had no intention of giving his father cause to doubt him.

"Where have you been going off to?" Aurelius continued, staring hard at his son. He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers together as he contemplated Marcus. "Montague and Pucey don't know where you are most of the time. I've checked with Warrington and his older brothers as well. You've broken ranks with Higgs, Bartram and Vaisey months ago. Bletchley didn't have any ideas either. Even Urquhart hasn't seen you in some time, and he was quite helpful when you first started out with us."

"Have I been remiss in some duties?" Marcus asked, frowning at his father. If Aurelius had gone through all of Marcus' usual friends, this would likely end badly indeed. "I've been going over the manor wards recently."

The lie mollified Aurelius. "That does take time. I hadn't thought of that."

"I try to check them periodically," Marcus told his father. "Especially if we are to host our Lord again. I don't want anything to interfere with his stay."

Aurelius nodded. "Thoughtful of you." He drank deeply from his wine glass and looked at his son with a critical eye. "Whatever happened to that spy from the summer? You never mentioned it again."

"Nothing to mention, Father. I took care of it."

Aurelius smiled at his son. "Good. And the Malfoys have such praise for you, mentoring their whelp. Strategic move, that. I think Goyle would have preferred to have you take on his boy, but the child is an idiot."

Marcus had always thought that Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe weren't quite as thick as everyone thought they were. After all, everyone had thought _he_ was thick for repeating his seventh year, even if there had been no proof of that prior. "Greg and Vince were thinking of working with Rosier, actually. I'd rather not step on Rosier's toes if they are already working with him. He's old, but he's sharp."

Aurelius snorted. "That one would more likely bugger the boys than teach them." He put down his knife and fork and looked at his son. "There's been talk in the higher circles about promotions soon enough. You and Warrington are being discussed."

"We've had a good run of luck lately."

"You're too fucking modest, boy," Aurelius snarled. "Where's that ambition? You can be greater than a sodding errand boy. Even Pucey's moved up in the world."

Marcus was thankful that this conversation was happening over dinner and not afterward, when Aurelius might have been more likely to curse him. "Adrian's coming under notice, but not all of it is very good, is it, Father?"

Aurelius narrowed his eyes at Marcus. The boy was starting to get mouthy, though the words that came through had more than enough thought behind them. Marcus actually paid attention when Aurelius hadn't been sure that he was. "What are you getting at?"

"There's been talk of Adrian going forth to find Potter. He's going to fail at that. The brat fled, and there's nothing to find. That's just going to get Adrian killed."

"So you _have_ been listening." Aurelius leaned back in his chair. "And what do you think should happen, then?"

"He'd need a reason to come back," Marcus replied with a shrug. "Why should Potter come back if he knows we all want to kill him?"

Aurelius nodded slowly. "You'll present that thought at Nott's, then." He laughed in the face of Marcus' controlled surprise. "I won't have them underestimating you, boy. You're not thick and I won't have you playing the role."

"Of course, Father," Marcus replied. Theodore's father didn't give a rat's arse about him or his intelligence, and neither did most of the others in his father's generation. They wanted their own promotions, even at the cost of another's.

"Thorfinn Rowle was talking about getting you more involved at the Ministry," Aurelius continued, brooding over his dinner plate. "It's stable enough at the family business, I suppose, and with Rookwood poisoned..."

"Poisoned? Is that what happened?"

"They're not talking about the details, of course," Aurelius began heavily. "They're saying that someone broke into the Ministry offices. Someone managed to slip poison into Rookwood's coffee, so he's been laid up with the family healers for the past two weeks."

Marcus had thought Rookwood was a bloody wanker, but not terribly bad for that lot. "That bad? Do you know what poison it was?"

Aurelius narrowed his eyes at Marcus. "Why?"

"If the Ministry isn't safe for us, we may have to keep antidotes with us." Marcus shrugged. "A bezoar is good, too, but there aren't enough of those to go around."

"They didn't mention what kind, and Rookwood should be at Nott's."

"Parkinson must be put out with the recovery, then." Marcus swallowed a smile at his father's scowl. "I thought he was going after Rookwood's spot at the Ministry."

"He is, the bloody wanker. Fucking upstart, that one. His line's only been around for the past ten generations. At least Malfoy and Warrington comes by that snobbery honestly." Aurelius made a loud harrumphing sound. "The bastard's daughter is a tart, flashing her bits at anyone that might take an interest. I won't have you meddling about that one."

"Not a chance," Marcus replied with a smirk. "There's talk that she's got her eye on Draco Malfoy or even Lucius."

"Lucius? He's besotted with his wife, the fool," Aurelius replied, shaking his head. "No, that Parkinson slut will probably end up with Rookwood, the way her blasted father goes on about a partnership in the Ministry. Unless he dies, of course. But that bastard's healthy enough for ten bouts of poison. No one's bested him yet."

"In that case, I wish him luck."

Aurelius gave Marcus a thin smile. "I think that other friend of yours, Bletchley, was going on about her at a recent outing."

Marcus shrugged. "Miles never did have good taste in birds. If he wants to be saddled with that, he can have her."

"I've been looking about for a suitable wife for you," Aurelius remarked. He noted the slight twist of distaste in Marcus' expression and frowned. "You need to start thinking of the family line, Marcus."

"Well, what fine examples do you want to throw my way, then?" Marcus asked, a measure of insolence in his tone. He really wasn't interested in whatever girl his father would see fit to name. They would likely be too young or too broken already.

Aurelius frowned even more deeply at his son, but let the tone slide. Marcus was still young, and likely didn't like to be pushed into marriage too soon. But he was Aurelius' only son, and there were more deaths among the Death Eaters than anyone wanted to talk about. It would be better for the boy to marry young and start getting brats off of his wife as quickly as possible. "The Midgen girl is a Pureblood. She's a seventh year at the school. Hufflepuff. Amycus and Alecto have already started in on her, so she should be trained by the time she graduates."

Marcus let his disgusted expression show. "She could very well be insane by the time she graduates, with what those two do."

"It's not as if you need her mind..."

"I will if I'm to do more in the coming years," Marcus snapped. Aurelius bristled at his tone, lips thinning. Marcus sighed and leaned back in his chair. He was going to get it later. "I appreciate you looking after me, Father. And I understand your concern. But I'm really not interested in anything those two break."

Aurelius pursed his lips. "Well, then. Who have you been considering?"

_Katie Bell,_ Marcus almost said, but then he would have to explain that he had captured her over the summer and hadn't killed her. That would likely start a row, and he didn't want to deal with that headache before heading off to a meeting.

"I'm thinking about it," Marcus said after a moment. "I'd rather take a little care in who's going to be the mother of my children."

As unhappy as Aurelius was with that answer, it was at least acceptable. Marcus had always been a little too thoughtful for his tastes, but the boy hadn't stumbled yet. "Try not to be too choosy, Marcus. I'd rather have a grandchild by this time next year."

"I'll keep it in mind," Marcus intoned. He had been really careful so far, getting alerts from Apple when Katie was likely to be at her most fertile. He avoided actual intercourse on those days. She wasn't ready to deal with the vipers in his life and he wasn't ready to be a father yet. He still had trouble reconciling the protective urges he had toward her, considering mere months ago he was ready to kill her.

"In the meantime, for Merlin's sake, don't get yourself killed and don't let someone else get credit for what you do!" Aurelius slammed his open palm against the dinner table in anger. "You won't have any advancement if you just stay in the background like a bloody simpleton! I trained you better than that!"

"Yes, Father," Marcus replied with a nod. "I'll discuss the Ministry position with Rowle and Nott, then. It will take me away from the company." Not to mention the manor and seeing Katie on a regular basis, but he couldn't even begin to think about that yet.

"Nothing would start until spring, at the very least. They're still routing the Mudblood supporters out of the Ministry to open up new positions. It's a good move for you."

"A promotion, then," Marcus said with a nod. There was no avoiding it now.

"Good," Aurelius said, smiling at his son. Apparently, he only needed to be reminded of his proper place in the order of things to come.

***  
***


	8. Bodies Behind The Curtain

Draco found Marcus in the drawing room easily enough. No one else was there, and Marcus was lazily making his way through a glass of brandy. "Do you have a moment?"

Marcus looked over at Draco's pale face and sighed. "What is it this time?"

Draco bristled at Marcus' aggrieved tone, but he cast the silencing charms anyway. It wasn't as if he bothered Marcus all the time. "Look, they took students off the Hogwarts Express."

"Yes, they did mention they were planning that in the beginning of the month."

"I _know_ them!" Draco hissed. "And they're in the dungeons _here!"_

Ah. Marcus had wondered about Draco's sullen silence all through dinner. He sat up straighter in his seat and regarded Draco over his glass of brandy. "Get yourself something to drink, Draco. You're not going to like this."

"I'm not liking a lot of things," Draco snapped, moving to the liquor cabinet. "I seem to be doing all right so far."

"True, but you've never had to torture anyone you knew," Marcus replied, watching him. His hands didn't shake, at least. Draco was getting better at keeping his mouth shut and his thoughts to himself, which would keep him alive a lot longer. "You had enough of a time on Father's projects this past summer."

Draco grimaced. "Your father is twisted, Flint. No offense."

"No offense," Marcus replied easily. "But what do you suppose some of the others are like if you get to know them? My father is the least of it, I assure you." He finished off his brandy and got up to join Draco at the liquor cabinet. "There's very little civility left, once you give them a handy excuse, have you realized that? Better to learn it now."

"It's going to get worse, then?"

"What do you think?"

Draco grimaced and downed his entire glass of scotch. "Ugh. How do you drink this shite?"

Marcus laughed. "Not by guzzling it, that's for sure. Look. You can probably avoid it for now, follow your aunt around, something like that. Tell everyone you want to learn from them, want to train under them. They'll be so proud to show you what to do, and you won't have to lift a finger. The hard part will come when they consider you trained. But that should be another year or two after you graduate. Less, if you convince them you're gifted."

Draco nodded slowly. "How do you do it, then?"

"Do what?"

"Torture someone you know. I know you must have by now."

"You don't think of them as people, let alone someone you've gone to school with," Marcus said slowly, pouring himself more brandy. "And it comes down to them getting hurt or you. Because if you don't do it, someone will know, and someone will take it out on you."

Draco's hand tightened around his glass a fraction, and then his grip eased. "That's the way of it, then? That's what we've got to look forward to?"

"At least our future is secure. Can't say the same for Mudbloods and Muggle lovers."

"Yeah," Draco agreed, though he certainly looked less than enthusiastic. "There's that."

Marcus watched him leave the parlor, not sure if this was helping him at all. But at least Draco looked more self assured than he had over the summer. And spending time with the younger boy kept him from thinking about Katie in the dungeons.

***

"Oi, Marcus," Miles Bletchley called out across the courtyard at Vaisey's home. "I thought I heard you were headed this way today."

Marcus nodded at Warrington and headed toward Bletchley. "I haven't seen you in a while. You and Higgs are thick as thieves about now, aren't you?"

"And Bartram and Vaisey," Bletchley agreed. "We're going to be taking over part of the new Registration Department at the Ministry. You and that lot there are going to be doing the new rounds at Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade."

"It's work," Marcus replied vaguely. He wasn't sure what Bletchley was up to; he had been a year ahead of Marcus at Hogwarts and had been so lackadaisical about everything that Marcus had overstepped him to become the Slytherin Quidditch team captain instead of him. All Marcus had seen of Bletchley since then confirmed that the man had little interest in doing any hard work. He easily wound up Higgs so that he would do all the torture and killing. Bletchley liked pulling other peoples' strings to make them dance to his tune.

Marcus wondered what Bletchley had planned for him now.

"I've been working with Rookwood, you know."

"I hadn't heard," Marcus replied when Bletchley fell silent. "Congratulations."

"The Registration Department is for show," Bletchley replied, his lip curling in distaste. "No real power, no authority. It's a place to put us and cool our heels."

"A stepping stone, I think they were calling it," Marcus replied idly.

"Bollocks. Shelving us from doing important work. Higgs has been going off on his own a lot more now. The bastard's going to get himself killed."

"What do you care, Bletchley? It's not as if it looks bad on you."

Bletchley pressed his lips together in a tight line. "Our parents are thinking of him marrying my sister Hannah."

"Ah." Marcus nodded as it slid into place. Hannah was a year younger than Marcus and had been fairly ambitious in the Snakes' Den. Higgs might be a good match for her politically, but she would likely be a widow before long. There was no point in building up an alliance if it wasn't going to last. "There's Vaisey."

"Bloody diseased arsehole," Bletchley snapped. "Takes direction well, but that's where his usefulness ends as far as I'm concerned."

Marcus had a sinking feeling in his gut at those words. "And Bartram?"

"Fucking poufter."

Marcus pushed his hands into his pockets as Bletchley fell into an angry silence. "Seems your team isn't as big a credit as you thought it was."

"They're fine in the field," Bletchley responded acidly. "But not anyone I want shackled to me as family. And not a one good enough for Hannah."

"Why are you telling me this?" Marcus asked blandly, coming to a stop in the courtyard. They were all expected inside to be briefed on the changes in routine for hols, and he knew that Miles Bletchley would have to cut to the chase.

"I want you to offer for Hannah."

Hearing it in the open didn't do much for Marcus' nerves. "Sorry, Bletchley, but not interested."

"She's a Pure! You know there's talk about everyone needing to start marrying off."

Marcus really didn't want to think of that. Not now, not ever. And he certainly didn't want to think about why he was feeling this way, or about the petite brunette blood traitor he would prefer to shackle himself to. He couldn't put off the older generation forever, not with how much attention they were giving this particular topic. Bletchley wasn't so bad, at least, and wasn't really pushing. "She's a harpy even if her bloodline's true. Why not ask Warrington? They're the same age and know each other better."

"I don't know him well enough to trust him," Bletchley replied through grit teeth. He had been hoping that Marcus would jump at the chance. It was beneficial for both families, and it would get the older Death Eaters off his back about creating a new generation of Death Eaters and soldiers for Voldemort to use.

"I'm honored," Marcus replied with a nod. "Really. But not a chance."

Bletchley grimaced at Marcus. "I hoped..."

"I'll vouch for Warrington, if you need it," Marcus offered. "He's solid, good leadership material, good head on his shoulders."

"So why'd you let him take the lead of your group?"

"I'd rather not have my head on the chopping block if something goes pear shaped," Marcus replied flatly. "He's steady enough that nothing's gone wrong. He couldn't rein in Higgs mostly because Higgs is an arse that won't listen to anyone younger, even if they have something good to say." Marcus shrugged. "If you think about it, his three older brothers will have the brunt of the family work to do, and the most talk about bloodlines. Warrington can afford to pay attention to Hannah the way she'd want."

Bletchley sighed. "I suppose you're right. She is tiresome sometimes."

"I've got the business to attend to, the manor and apparently my father's been making inquiries about my entering the Ministry," Marcus said, displeasure clear in his voice. "She wouldn't be any kind of priority for me."

Bletchley nodded absently. "You've always been a fair bloke, for a Snake."

"Only if you deserve it," Marcus told him wryly. "Ask Higgs about me sometime."

Bletchley snorted. "He still hates you for those childish pranks at school. The man has no reason at all."

"He always thought he was too good for everyone." Marcus shrugged. "He might get ahead for now, but we know what the future holds for him, don't we?"

"We all die sometime," Bletchley replied with a shrug.

"True enough. But I don't plan on that happening for years yet." Marcus nodded at Bletchley and then headed into Vaisey's home without looking back.

***

Bellatrix Lestrange strode into the room where many of the younger Death Eaters were sitting. She headed straight for Draco and Marcus, who were playing cards with Theodore Nott, Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe. Marcus played his trump card when Bellatrix stood over Draco, her lips twisting into something that might have been called a smile. "So lovely to see you boys," she crooned, her voice cracking slightly.

"Hello, Aunt Bella," Draco said, looking up as he folded his cards into his palm. He nodded formally at her, and Marcus watched him with a sense of pride. If the boy felt a momentary flare of panic at her approach, he hid it well.

"I think it's time I took over my dear nephew's instruction in all matters," Bellatrix said, looking at Marcus with a steady gaze. "There's so much he needs to learn, and he's gotten so quiet and hard to find. Rather like his current mentor."

Marcus leaned back in his hair, his cards in hand. He smiled easily at Bellatrix, thoughts of his father's dungeon cells in mind. Her smile froze a fraction; she must have been trying to sift through his thoughts. "I don't pretend to know everything there is, Mrs. Lestrange," Marcus told her with a confident air. "I do try my best to help further the cause. But I'm sure there's much you can teach him."

"Work with young Theodore, if you like. His father's busy with other things at the moment."

Bellatrix took Draco from the game, and Theodore pitched his cards into the center of the table, his lips drawn tight. Marcus sighed and collected all of the cards to redeal the game. "What is it, then? I've better things to do if you're going to have a hissy fit."

"Father's decided that Pucey and Montague are worth his time."

Marcus nodded as he began to deal out the game. "So? Find another mentor. What is it you wish to learn, then?"

"He says my curses need work."

Marcus managed not to smile at Theo's sullen tone. "Rowle might be willing to take you on, if you have any interest in Ministry work."

"I might," Theo admitted, picking up his cards.

"So? Talk to him. The man adores flattery. And port, if you take my meaning." And it might just eliminate Rowle's interest in Marcus.

Theo nodded at Marcus. "Thanks." He put out the first card, and sat back in his seat, a little bit more at ease. Crabbe and Goyle merely grunted at the play, and started to throw out their own cards in response.

Marcus won the game easily, and the group disbanded. Crabbe and Goyle went to find Rosier, and Theo went off in search of Rowle. Marcus was getting a glass of brandy when Pucey came up to him. "Your father's on the warpath, Marcus," he hissed, expression one of fear.

"That's not usually so disturbing, Adrian," Marcus commented, taking in Pucey's chalk-white face. "What happened?"

"Potter. Turned up in some idiot village and got away. Your father and mine were near enough that they should have done something, but he still got away."

Marcus put down his glass and looked around the room. It had been decorated for hols, but there was still a somber air about the place. Too much politicking and backstabbing and fear of death did that, he supposed. "Your father's still out of it, then?"

"He was under Cruciatus for nearly fifteen minutes," Pucey said, looking positively ill. "I had to watch the end of it and send him to Mother. His vocal cords are shredded and he looked mad by the end of it."

Marcus frowned. "You were summoned there to watch?" No one had contacted him about his father's punishment.

"Bartram called me in by the Mark. I thought he would have summoned you, but you didn't show up. And now your father looks ready to spit nails."

"I was here all night," Marcus told Pucey. "No one told me anything was happening."

"He's going to take it out on you, I know it," Pucey told Marcus, eyes wide with concern for his friend. "Our Lord looked displeased with his surveillance..."

"It's not his forte," Marcus replied, shaking his head. "He usually relies on someone else for that, and it sounds like it was just the both of our fathers at that village."

"I know my father thought it was too small to be of much worth."

"My father certainly thought his task tonight would've been easy," Marcus agreed heavily. He hadn't asked what it would be, and had been happy enough to be left behind.

"He should be heading here soon enough. I came back first thing."

Marcus grasped Pucey's arm and stared at him with a tight lipped expression. "We're going to find Montague or Warrington and we're going to head out on a patrol. We're not going to be here when they get back, understand?"

"Your father..."

"Will take his anger out on someone else. Or would you rather be lumped in with my lot and get chunks of your back carved out?"

"Montague was in the library," Pucey replied with a tight lipped expression.

Marcus headed there straightaway, still leading Pucey by the arm. Pucey had always been afraid of Aurelius Flint, especially when the man was angry. He still remembered being a child and cursed severely for teasing Aurelius' cat. Marcus didn't think the fear was unreasonable, though it made Pucey into a complete idiot.

Montague was more than willing to leave the books behind, and they headed out for some of the wizarding villages near Malfoy Manor. The three of them did a tight patrol of the streets, though no one was out of bounds. The village here knew better than to disobey curfew, and knew better than to defy any of the Death Eater strictures outright.

By the time they had returned to Malfoy Manor, Aurelius Flint had burned off most of his anger on a few of the students in the Malfoy dungeons. Draco and Bellatrix had actually stayed off to the side and observed him in action; Draco looked almost green thinking about it later when Marcus sought him out. "He killed that Mudblood Ravenclaw," Draco told Marcus, still looking revolted and ill. "Just... The boy was nothing but blood and bone by the end of it, just streaks on the wall..." He flinched when Marcus touched his arm in sympathy, but remained silent. "I can still hear him screaming," Draco murmured after a moment, finally looking up. "This _can't_ be the future for our people."

"The future is built out of blood and bone," Marcus replied softly, parroting his father's favorite words regarding Voldemort's first rise to power. "They would lay a foundation for our future with the bones of Mudbloods and Muggles."

_They._

Draco looked up. "You don't believe in that, do you?"

"It doesn't matter what I believe. It matters what the ones in charge believe." Marcus looked at Draco firmly. "Keep to your parents for a while. You can't let the others see you looking like this, or they'll pounce and kill you."

"Why haven't you?"

Marcus shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "There's bloodlines and all that. A Flint married to a Black far back enough."

"This isn't just because of blood. Or because my mother asked you to."

Draco was just a boy. A stupid, selfish seventeen year old boy that didn't know what he had gotten himself into. On some level, Marcus felt sorry for him, and almost wanted to protect him from the harsh reality they were facing.

"I'm sure you'll do me a favor someday," Marcus replied with a shrug. "Isn't that the way of it?"

Draco kept his mouth shut this time and nodded. He didn't believe Marcus, but he wasn't going to push any farther. Crabbe and Goyle were changing as well, and they were becoming something he didn't quite recognize. Then again, for the past year and a half, he hadn't really been able to recognize himself in the mirror. He rubbed at his chest as Marcus left the room, almost able to feel the faint scars there. He used to hate Potter, used to hate the attention and easy way things always seemed to come to that boy. Now the entire world was out to get him, ready to find him and deliver him to Voldemort to kill. Draco didn't envy Potter that fate at all, if Voldemort could torture his own men easily.

Everything came with a price. He knew that, though he had never really _thought_ about it before. His mother and father had tried to tell him even as they tried to shield him from this.

There were plans and plots and all kinds of conspiracies within the walls of his home. Voldemort was the supreme ruler of the Death Eaters, a rule based on fear and loathing and power. It was bringing the worst out of the people that Draco thought he knew, and Draco didn't think he could go ahead and become like them. He couldn't play both sides, either. He didn't know enough to be valuable to anyone, and he wasn't important enough for either side to save.

Marcus and his lot weren't that bad, at least. If he could just stick close to them, he might learn how to overcome this sick feeling he had every time he thought of the helpless Ravenclaw boy screaming in the dungeons.

***  
***


	9. Anything You Want

Marcus waved off Apple's insistence that she heal him before he headed down into the dungeons at Flint Manor. "I've been away long enough, and she's dead asleep, you said," Marcus growled at his house elf. "Father will be away another week, at least. I can have this."

He tucked his wand above the door frame on the inside of the cell. He didn't think Katie would try to kill him in his sleep, but he was taking no chances. He stripped down to his boxer shorts and slipped beneath the covers of the bed next to Katie. She was curled on her side, facing him, a thin camisole and knickers all she was wearing. She made a soft noise as he lifted the covers; they were a soft blue and had warming charms woven into the fabric. She burrowed next to him as he slid beneath the covers next to, and Marcus let out a soft sigh as she pressed close to him in her sleep. He slid an arm around her shoulders and let his eyes fall shut. This was nice. This was his reward for nearly two months of dedicated service.

Marcus ran his fingers through Katie's hair and let his breathing even out. It was calm and quiet in the room, listening to Katie's even breathing. He didn't have to think of how to avoid getting roped into anything completely distasteful or how to avoid his father's remarks that he needed to start looking for a wife.

He was startled from his sleep by gasps of outrage and a sudden blast of cold across his bare chest. "I didn't do that!" Katie cried, kneeling next to him. Her eyes were wide with alarm, and for a moment he thought she looked almost worried about him.

"Of course not," he grumbled in reply, and pushed himself into a sitting position. Perhaps he should have taken the fifteen or twenty minutes for Apple to heal all of the cuts and bruises he had received. He was stiff and sore, with purple-black bruises along his limbs, chest and stomach. He grimaced at the sight of himself. "It didn't feel this bad last night, but I should've known better. I feel like I've been hit by a dozen bludgers."

"What happened, then?" Katie asked, her voice almost tremulous.

Marcus looked up, a half smile on his face. "Did you miss me, Princess?"

She flushed and sat back on her haunches. "No," she replied in a surly tone.

Marcus pulled her into his lap. "Liar," he said before pulling her into a kiss.

Katie sighed against his mouth and relaxed into his touch. Her fingers were light on his shoulders to avoid pressing down into a bruise. "What happened?" she asked again when he ended the kiss. It occurred to her that she probably shouldn't remain straddled across his lap, her arms around him as if she _cared._

"Ambushed by almost a dozen Order members." Marcus watched her expression carefully. She froze, didn't look him in the eyes, but otherwise didn't seem to react to his words. "No one died on either side, so we're at a draw."

"I'm glad," Katie murmured softly. "There's been enough suffering, hasn't there?"

Marcus let his fingers run down her back. "They keep fighting us, Princess. There's bound to be lots more in the future." He tipped her chin up to make her look at him. "What about you?"

"What about me?" she asked, confused.

"You've stopped fighting me," Marcus told her.

Katie's eyes slid away from his. "I suppose I have."

There was perhaps hope for his half-formed plan after all. "Why don't you show me how much you've missed me, Princess?" he asked her, his voice low and husky with desire. He smiled at her startled expression; she clearly hadn't been expecting that response from him.

Marcus shifted position so that he was lying down, sprawled across the bed. Katie adjusted her position as he shifted his, so that she was kneeling beside him. "Ah... What do you want?" she asked him, her tone hesitant.

Katie supposed she shouldn't have been terribly surprised when he kicked off his boxers and then folded his hands beneath his head. "Make me come, Princess," he told her, smirking at the discomfited look on her face.

It should have been appalling, but that look was almost comforting. Nothing terrible happened to him. He wasn't dead, and therefore she wasn't forgotten and left for dead. That was the only reason why she wasn't hurting him. Yes, that was it. She needed him alive and well if she hoped to escape someday. She was wholly dependent on his good will. This had nothing to do with emotion or how he felt. Nothing at all.

Katie's fingertips ghosted across his abdomen, and Marcus let out a soft sigh. She bit her lip and looked at him uncertainly. It was easier if he ordered her about, easier not to think about what she was doing or why. She bent her head down and took him into her mouth, letting her eyes fall shut so she wouldn't see what she was doing. Marcus made a contented sound, and one of his hands came out from under his head to touch her shoulder. She shivered when his fingers went down to touch her sides and then circled to her front, brushing across her nipples. Katie ran her tongue along his soft cock as he ran his fingertips along her body. She gasped when his fingers slid beneath her knickers and touched the curls there, then felt their way along her folds. She sucked harder on him, her left hand tightening on his thigh and her other on the sheets as she propped herself up over him.

There was a soft mewling sound deep in her throat as a finger slid through her folds. "I think you like this," he said in an amused tone, feeling her beginning to grow wet at his touch. He dragged his wet fingertip across her clit and felt her indrawn breath along his cock. "I think you like this part a lot."

Katie pulled back slightly and turned her head so that her cheek rested on his abdomen. "That feels good," she said in a strangled tone. She closed her eyes and tried to remember how to breathe, how to do more than just clutch at Marcus as if her life depended on it.

He chuckled as she came with a startled cry, her eyes flying open. "It's easier if you take those things off." She looked a touch embarrassed, but took off the knickers and camisole readily enough, throwing them over the edge of the bed. She knelt beside him, her fingertips light and cool across his bruised abdomen. "Much as I like looking at you, Katie, that alone won't make me come," he reminded her.

Marcus managed not to laugh at her expression, embarrassed, chagrined and almost resentful at once. Somehow, despite everything he had done to her so far, she seemed so innocent. He skimmed his fingers along the curve of her hip, then pulled on her arms so that she had to straddle his waist to keep upright. "What do you want?" she asked softly, licking her lips nervously. His eyes tracked the movement of her tongue, and he could feel his cock twitch beneath her. She gasped when his hands settled on her hips, gently pulling down. "But..."

"You'll get the hang of it," he assured her. He watched as she guided him into her, cheeks aflame and lower lip caught between her teeth. She sank down experimentally, and he let out a soft sigh of satisfaction. "Yeah. Like that." His fingers tightened on her hips as she leaned forward, her hands on either side of his head. He began to urge her to rock against him, their eyes locked together as she began to move to the rhythm he set.

Katie quieted the part of her that was screaming about how wrong this was. He was full and thick inside of her, and she gasped and moaned as pleasure shot through her. She broke eye contact to duck her head down, biting on her lip to keep from crying out.

Marcus let go of one hip to trail his fingers along her thigh. "Let me hear you," he murmured, lifting his hips up as she came down. He slid even deeper inside of her as a result, and she let out a startled cry of pleasure. "That's it, Katie," he crooned, feeling her tighten around his cock, her inner walls fluttering. "Just like that."

Katie pushed herself up and back, not sure she should really be enjoying this as much as she was. But that changed the angle of his cock inside of her, and Merlin, did that feel good. She grasped at his thighs behind her, her head thrown back as she moaned. Her eyes slid shut as she felt his hands move to caress her belly. One of Marcus' hands grasped at a breast, a nipple between his fingertips, and she moaned as he tugged gently. She was moving faster against him, gasping for breath, eyes squeezed tightly shut. It felt like she was chasing that pleasure as it built up inside of her, his moans urging her on. And then she was coming, entire body tightening around his as she cried out and nearly collapsed on top of him.

Marcus smiled at her as she panted, needing to prop herself up to keep from simply sagging down on top of him. "I haven't come yet, Katie. Keep going," he murmured, sliding a hand along her back. She made a soft mewl of dismay, but started rocking against him again. She had an almost plaintive expression on her face, almost asking him what she had to do. "Just like this," he urged her, the hand at her back sliding down to caress her backside and push into her thrusts, making them deeper. "Fuck, yeah, that."

She kept moving, feeling his cock twitch inside of her. It felt good, good enough to take her breath away, and she squelched the feeling that she should stop. Marcus had his hands on her hips again, pulling her down farther and tilting his hips up so that he was sliding even more deeply inside of her. Katie moaned, a deep guttural sound that he seemed to like, and her hand tightened on the sheets at either side of his head. "I can't," she whimpered, not sure what she was even talking about.

"Just a little more," Marcus ground out, feeling her tighten around him again. "Keep going," he groaned, moving her hips faster. Katie let out a choked cry as she came again, and he kept her moving through it for another minute until he came as well.

Katie curled around his torso, panting as she lay against his chest. He had his arms around her in an almost comforting gesture, and she squeezed her eyes shut. There was something wrong with her. She shouldn't be enjoying this, shouldn't be cooperating.

"Missed me, did you?" he asked, voice smug and amused. She wanted to hit him.

"I was bored," Katie replied, not wanting him to know that she _had_ missed him.

He trailed his fingers along her spine as he laughed in amusement. "I missed you, too."

She pushed herself up to look at him in confusion. "You did? Why?"

Marcus grasped her hip with one hand, the other resting along the small of her back. "Why do you think, Katie?"

"Why _me?"_ she asked instead of answering.

He simply smiled at her, and it felt almost like her stomach was unsettled at the sight. It wasn't a particularly sinister smile, or sardonic or patronizing. It was _real,_ and it disturbed her that she would know the difference in the smiles he gave her, that she knew he wasn't lying to her even when he could have. "Why not you?"

"You wanted to kill me before," she whispered, bringing her clenched fists to rest on his chest.

"Things change, don't they?" he countered.

"That much?"

"Sometimes they do," he agreed easily enough. He stroked the curve of her hip with the ball of his thumb. "I don't think you'd recognize what the world outside has become." His voice was quiet, and Katie suppressed a shiver at the sound of it. "You probably would do something stupid and rash and horribly Gryffindor, and you'd get yourself killed."

_Why do you care?_ she wanted to ask him, but the words refused to form.

Marcus shifted position, propping himself up on one elbow. "You're safe here."

"I'm a prisoner," Katie replied, voice just as soft as his.

He searched her face, his own impassive as he studied her. "Did you expect something different?" he asked finally.

"I didn't expect to get caught, that's for sure," she snapped at him, exasperated.

He couldn't help but smile at that. "I'm sure you didn't. But you didn't do a very good job of checking the wards before you crossed them. Or hiding. Or even protecting yourself from a very simple body bind spell."

Katie flushed under his gaze. "That's fairly obvious, isn't it?"

"So you need looking after," Marcus told her, lips quirking into something that could have been a smile. She bristled at that, but didn't say anything. "Not even going to deny that?"

"If I did, I'm sure you'd still have something to say."

Marcus nearly laughed at her churlish tone. "Likely, Princess," he agreed. "At least you aren't stupid as well as brave."

"I never had to repeat a year," Katie replied, knowing she was needling him but unable to help herself. He didn't seem to mind those kinds of remarks.

"Reasons for everything," Marcus answered, shrugging. "You can't be expected to know."

Katie shoved at his chest, her lips pressed together in annoyance. "You selfish—"

There was a popping sound as Apple appeared with two heavy breakfast trays and another chair for Marcus to sit at the table beside Katie. Marcus caught her hands in his, eyes narrowing slightly in warning. She quieted, and he nodded approvingly at her. "Behave nicely, poppet, and you might get something you want. But enough of that for now."

She ate quietly next to him, careful not to let her hands brush past his even accidentally. She didn't look at him either, and had dressed in her discarded camisole and knickers. Marcus hadn't bothered with such niceties, and merely sat next to her naked. He wondered which discomfited her more, the fact that he was naked beside her or the fact that she wasn't making any move to try to harm him as they ate. It was amusing to watch her carefully place the silverware back on the tray and fold her hands in her lap. Marcus toyed with the small container that was untouched on his tray, but he finally placed it in front of Katie. "That's for you."

She looked up, startled, and touched it almost warily. She finally opened it, and saw the charms from her bracelet. "Oh."

Smirking, Marcus got up and lazily walked to the cell door. He took his wand from the frame and returned to the table, Katie's eyes steadfastly fixed above his waistline. He extended his hand, and she put her wrist with the bracelet into it. Marcus easily attached the charms to the bracelet again, taking in the sight of her vulnerable expression. She was so painfully easy to read, how did she ever think she could become a spy?

Marcus sat down again, placing his wand on the table. It would be an easy enough reach if she lunged across the table, but she sat there and kept her eyes on his face. Good. He reached out with his left arm, watching her eyes shy away from the lurid Dark Mark. He grasped the back of her neck and pulled her slightly forward so that he could kiss her. Her mouth opened beneath his easily, and her hands rested gently on his chest. Even better.

"Not so frightened of me now, are you?" he murmured as he moved to kiss her jawline.

"I've seen the worst of you already," Katie replied, voice soft and steady.

"No, you haven't," Marcus told her, lips by her pulse point. He felt it leap against his lips, a flash of fear in the wake of his words. She was barely even trembling, getting better at holding it in. That was a good sign, as far as he was concerned.

"Will I see it, then?" she asked, eyes falling closed as his right hand moved to cup a breast.

Marcus ran his tongue along her neck and collarbone. He slowly drew back and grasped her chin with his left hand. She could see the Dark Mark on his forearm and bit her lip. Marcus let his hand move down her throat until it was resting on the rise of her breast, just over the camisole. "I don't think you want to," he said nonchalantly.

"What are you going to do with me, then?" Katie whispered, holding herself as still as she could.

"What would you like me to do?" he countered in a deceptively lazy tone.

"Let me go home?" she asked hopefully, even as she knew it was an impossible request.

"Anything you want but that. Within reason, of course," Marcus said, amused.

Katie let her hands fall from his chest to her lap. He could do whatever he wanted, and there really wasn't anything she could do to stop him. "I don't know what you want from me," she said, searching his face with her eyes. "I don't understand why you keep me here."

He thought of the dead eyes in the cells not too far from hers, the eyes staring up into the rain in nameless villages he gone to on patrol or looking for particular people. She had no idea what was happening outside of her cell, and had missed the worsening atmosphere beyond the four walls that kept her trapped.

But he couldn't tell her why he was keeping her. He didn't really understand it himself.

Instead, Marcus pulled her into his lap, his broad hands against her back to keep her steady. "I want you here," he said finally. That was true enough, and he really had no reason to lie. Things would have been so much simpler for him without this damn war, without all the tension and lies he had to keep track of on a regular basis. As twisted as this was, being with Katie was the most undemanding and trouble free time of day for him.

"What if you get tired of me?" she asked, her hands on his shoulders for balance.

Marcus pulled her tighter against him, and she collapsed down against him. The charms at her wrist jingled faintly, and he found himself smiling up at her concerned face. "You'll have to make sure I don't ever tire of you, then."

Katie shivered in his embrace and shook her head faintly. She didn't know what he meant, didn't know what he might want with her. She dropped her head so that her forehead touched his crown. His wand was within easy reach, but she didn't even think to grab it. Katie's eyes were closed and she simply sat there, straddling him and feeling his arms around her. It was a steady pressure against her back, an almost comforting warmth after being alone in the cell for so long, no one to talk to but Apple. And Apple didn't count, since the elf wasn't there to actually take commands or have conversation with her.

He couldn't tell what was going through her mind, but it didn't really matter. She seemed to be getting used to the idea of belonging to him, of relying on him. At the same time, he could tell that there was still a core of strength inside of her, that part that still rebelled against him, still hoped that her idea of justice would prevail. She had a spirit still, a soul. That was rare enough, and especially after all he had done to her. Maybe it would never be forgiveness, but he wasn't asking that of her. He just wanted everything else.

***  
***


	10. Striking A Bargain

February slid past in a blur, and March began as cold and dreary as February had. Marcus fell into a routine of sorts. He spent his days working for his father and dodging Aurelius' temper. His evenings were spent on patrol at Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade or one of the Death Eaters' homes that was under surveillance by Order members. Sometimes he managed to attack an Order member, sometimes he even killed one. He managed to avoid permanent damage from their return fire, though he now had a thick burn scar across the back of his left hand. He checked in on Katie every day, and she had been discomfited by the sight of the scar on his hand. She had sat there beside him on the bed, his hand clasped tightly in her lap as he told her about the fight. She didn't ask which Order member he fought, didn't ask who he had killed.

He had told Apple months ago to keep track of her health status and monthly cycle so he could avoid actual intercourse when she was most likely to be fertile. Still, he must have made a mistake. Apple found him getting ready for dinner after a particularly excruciating discussion about the family finances with his father, wringing her hands even more than usual. "What is it?" Marcus snapped at her.

"Master told Apple to watch the girl." Apple bowed low in front of him, and he was tempted to kick her to make her get on with it. "There might be new life."

Marcus stilled as he was getting dressed. "What?"

"The girl feels different to Apple," the house elf warbled fearfully. "It just started today, and isn't changing. Master wanted to know..."

Marcus pressed his lips together in a thin line. Well, then. This was going to happen sooner than he had planned. Just as well; his father was starting to get vocal about finding him a wife again, and Marcus had no intention of wedding or even bedding any of his father's candidates for an acceptable daughter-in-law.

He went on the offensive over dinner. "I've given thought to the next generation, and I've made my choice of bride," he said without preamble.

"Oh? And which chit is it?" Aurelius asked, leaning back in his chair to look at his son closely.

"Katie Bell."

Aurelius frowned. "Not one of the girls I've been looking into for you."

"Pureblooded and not long out of Hogwarts. Not to mention that she can be trained," Marcus replied with a shrug. "That's all that's important."

Aurelius narrowed his eyes at Marcus. "You're not telling me something."

His shrug had probably been entirely _too_ careless. "She's possibly already pregnant with my child. The wedding should take place in the next few weeks to avoid suspicion. We could always vacation in the tropics over Easter."

The dining room was quiet. Finally, Aurelius put his silverware down with a quiet clink against the china. He stared evenly at his son, jaw clenched tight in anger. "And when did you get the opportunity to do this, Marcus?" he asked, voice soft but dangerous. _When did you defy me?_ was the real question.

"I've been molding her for some time," Marcus replied, putting down his knife and fork. No point in lying any longer. Aurelius looked ready to simply stab him with his dinner knife and just be done with it.

"Is this where you've been disappearing off to? Dallying with some chit I don't approve of?"

Marcus tightened his jaw at his father's deceptively soft tone. He had to tread carefully, though he fully expected to be cursed at some point for this. "I've been taking care of a lot of things, Father. I don't check in with you at all times."

"Clearly, you need to," Aurelius responded coldly. "If this is what you do with the freedom I've allowed you, then I've trusted you far too much." He picked up his knife and fork, lips set in a firm line. "Where is she, then? Is she difficult to get rid of?"

Hands clenched into fists in his lap, Marcus grit his teeth. "I won't get rid of her. And I won't have my firstborn birthed as a bastard."

"You should have thought of this before dallying with someone inappropriate," Aurelius hissed. "There's nothing to her name, no family alliance you can make. Everything we've worked so hard for, you've just thrown away. For what? A smile and a flash of leg?" Aurelius curled his lip in distaste at his son. "Weakness will not be tolerated."

"She's Pure. I can send the invitations out without your consent, Father. If I have to."

Aurelius stared at his son, at the stubborn set to his jaw. It looked entirely too much like his own in the board room. Marcus was going to be unreasonable about this. "You need more than blood in a suitable wife, Marcus. _Think._ She's after your fortune. How much do you think it will take to buy her off and go away?" Aurelius snapped. "She has no name, no money, no business being married to a Flint."

"She has no idea how much I'm worth. It's not what concerns her," Marcus replied thinly.

"You fancy yourself in love like an idiot schoolboy?" Aurelius asked with a snide tone. "Hah. That'll fade in days. She's like every other slut willing to spread her legs for a few galleons. Trust me on this, the only thing worth having is a woman that knows her place and has a price worth putting up with the lies."

"I said she could be trained," Marcus replied, more steel in his tone than he thought he'd show his father. "I've been working on her for months."

It suddenly clicked for Aurelius. "This was that spy from the summer. The one you said you were taking care of." He took in his son's surly silence and the silverware dropped from his hands abruptly. "You _imbecile!"_ he roared. "You put everything at risk to fuck a girl working with the Order?"

Put that way, it made no sense whatsoever, but Marcus wasn't about to admit that. "She knows nothing. They used her. It will be a blow to have turned one of their own to our side."

Aurelius snorted. "That's the talk of a self indulgent fool. I'll not have that in my home."

"We don't have to live here. I've properties in my own right."

The threat hung between them for a moment, and Aurelius drummed his fingers on the table top as he contemplated his son. He had wondered when his son would push against his restrictions, and never thought it would be over a girl. He had thought it would be to advance either in the shipping company or within the Death Eater ranks. That would have been acceptable. But for his son to break ranks over a _girl?_ That stung.

"Well, you've thought about this, I see." Aurelius looked at his son as if for the first time. The stubborn set to his square jaw was his, but that fierce look in Marcus' eyes wasn't. He thought he had burned out the last of the insolence, but apparently not. "So what are your plans?"

"You've been after me to find a suitable wife. Katie has the proper bloodlines and she's already with child. There won't be any problems having enough grandchildren."

More than one. As far as Aurelius was concerned, Marcus was besotted and an idiot.

Marcus continued when Aurelius remained silent. "She'll be installed here, of course, and won't have any contact with her old associates. She'll only be exposed to the proper sort, and won't have anything of consequence to do with the family affairs. I'll still handle them as I've been doing already. I will still have my duties to our Lord. She won't interfere."

Aurelius didn't know when Marcus had become a romantic idealist, and he let his lips curl into a derisive look. "That simple?"

"It's not difficult to impregnate a wife," Marcus snapped.

"It will be difficult to control a wife not allied with you," Aurelius snarled at his son. "Even ones that are allied with you can still be traitorous whores."

_Your father is not always right,_ his mother had said only days before she died.

"I will bind her by contract," Marcus replied, voice tight. "It will be stronger than any alliance you could forge with a society girl."

"You are a bigger fool than I thought if you truly believe that will work," Aurelius said. He pushed himself from the dinner table, his mouth twisted in distaste. He stared heavily at his son, his wand hand itching to have the boy under Cruciatus until he recanted this sorry story. But he had the feeling that Marcus would likely go insane instead, too stubborn to take it back and submit to his will. He had only one son, only one chance to carry on the family line. He was too old to start again and deal with a screaming infant.

"I'll send the invitations out tonight," Marcus told his father when he continued to be silent.

"This will fail," his father told him, voice tight with disapproval. "When that happens..."

"If that happens," Marcus interrupted, "I'll kill her myself."

Aurelius snorted in disbelief and left the room before the urge to beat Marcus into a bloody pulp became overpowering. He hadn't been entirely sure he'd impregnated the chit, and Aurelius still needed grandchildren.

Marcus watched his father leave and let out a slow breath. Convincing Katie to sign the contract he had been preparing would be much easier than this.

***

Marcus didn't make any waves with his invitations, and he collected the replies. The wedding was set for Easter Sunday, ordinarily a time for renewal. It seemed a fitting date, and still gave enough time to make it look like a planned event rather than a last minute scramble. His father could barely stand the sight of him, so Marcus handled all of the arrangements with the house elves' help. It was going to be a fairly simple ceremony and reception, and he was planning an extended honeymoon after the reception. It would give Katie time to grow accustomed to her position as his wife, to what was expected of her as a _Death Eater's_ wife. He expected to be back at the Manor by late summer or early autumn, by which time a child would definitely be growing within her.

All that was left was Katie's acceptance of his plan.

He found her taking a nap, curled up in bed beneath the covers. He stroked her hair, sitting beside her on the bed. She was wearing a loose nightgown when he pulled the covers back, and he lifted it up above her hips. He tossed the knickers elsewhere, and began stroking her folds with one hand and the nipple of one breast with his other. She stirred, making a soft moan of pleasure. Katie woke as he pumped his fingers inside of her, back arched and gasping for breath. She came, but he kept going through her orgasm, thumb sliding across her clit and two fingers crooked inside of her. Katie gasped and writhed beneath him, moaning his name.

Marcus didn't bother to undress all the way. He lifted one of her legs and left the other splayed to the side. Keeping hold of her raised leg with one hand, Marcus slid into her and kept her hips propped up with the other. Katie gasped at the feel of him deep inside of her and grasped at his thighs to pull him closer. "Fuck, you feel good," he grunted, feeling her inner walls flutter around his cock invitingly. Katie bit her lip and arched her back, her head pressed back into the pillow beneath her. She moaned, fingers digging into his thighs tightly. She came again, tightening around him, and Marcus growled at the sensation. Another few thrusts and he came as well, leaning heavily into her.

"What's this about?" Katie asked once she could catch her breath.

He simply smiled at her and disentangled himself from her. "Nothing special. Just wanted to see you before I headed out to do some paperwork."

Katie propped herself up on her elbows as he straightened out his clothing. "Oh? Are you going to be away for a long time?"

Marcus caught hold of the back of her neck and pulled her in for a kiss. "Hopefully not." He dropped another kiss onto her forehead. "I'll see you later."

She frowned as she watched him leave. It didn't register at first, but she didn't hear the door to the cell click shut. Katie cautiously cleaned herself up and then dressed in the clothes that Apple had left out for her. She rubbed her hands along the back of the skirt she was wearing; they suddenly felt clammy and cold. She cautiously pushed at the door to the cell, not believing what she was seeing when it moved. After a moment, when nothing happened, she slipped through the door. The hallway had the same stone as the cell, the same dim lighting overhead. "Marcus?" she called hesitantly.

Katie shivered and wrapped her arms around herself as she stepped from the cell. She looked back for a moment, not sure what she should do. While she didn't enjoy the idea of being locked away, at least she knew what to expect there. She didn't know where she was in Flint Manor, didn't know how heavily guarded it would be or even how to get out. She pressed her lips together and took a deep breath. She could figure this out.

It felt like she was being watched, but she progressed down the hallway. After a few feet, a rank stench rose up, and she had to pull her shirt up over her mouth and nose to try and block some of it out. She looked at the doors on either side of the hallway, not sure where the smell was coming from. It was a combination of mildew, blood, shit and decay, and Katie couldn't figure out why it seemed to cling to the walls heavily. Some of the doors had barred windows over them, and Katie stood of tiptoe to try to look into them. In one room, she though she could see a body lying on the floor, dark hair spread out around the head.

The door opened easily, and Katie made sure to wedge it open, just in case it locked as soon as it was shut. "Hello? Are you all right?" she called out. "I won't hurt you."

The figure on the floor was silent, and the cell was even darker than the hallway or her cell had been. Uneasily, Katie stepped forward. The floor was rough and uneven, with dark stains here and there. "Are you all right?" she rasped, feeling nervous.

Katie choked back a scream when she looked at the figure up close. It had been a girl once, with long dark hair. Her eyes were ripped out of her head, and her lower jaw was missing. The ragged edges of the wounds looked like bite marks, and the rest of the face was covered in deep gouges and bites in varying stages of decay. The girl's throat had been ripped out, and she had been disemboweled. Her hands and feet were cut off, the tendons pinned to the stone floor.

Katie staggered backward, unable to breathe, her eyes watering. She looked around the room in a panic, and could see other vague shapes in the corner. She could hear a soft whining sound, and dimly realized she was the one making the horrified noises.

All at once she was pushed up against the wall. The breath was knocked out of her, and her arms were wrenched from her side to be shackled. Katie could feel something damp slide into her hair, could hear the squish of it against her back. She let out a choked sob, looking around her in a panic. It was as if the shadows around her were shifting.

A hand closed around her throat heavily, and it felt almost familiar. The shadows coalesced into Marcus' stony face as he stared down at her.

Katie began to sob openly, unable to tear her eyes away from his. She couldn't say anything; the horror of finding the dead girl was too terrible to even contemplate. "She's dead," she finally was able to say between wracking sobs.

"Had been for months," Marcus agreed evenly.

If anything, the quiet tone of voice was even more horrifying, and she shivered. "How could..."

His hand tightened a fraction. "I didn't. These are my father's cells."

_My father would wonder why I hadn't killed you yet,_ Marcus had told her. She hadn't really believed it at the time. Katie sobbed, succumbing to the terror that had been building up within her. She looked at him plaintively, feeling completely helpless.

Marcus took his hand away from her throat. He watched her cry, feeling his insides twist into knots. "These are my father's cells," he repeated slowly. "This is what he does to muggles, to muggle lovers and blood traitors. I am not the same as him." He brushed the tears from her cheeks. "Do you think I'd hurt you this way?"

She wanted to say that he used to, but he hadn't been as vicious as this. He hadn't left her to die, hadn't done such horrible things to her. He had been controlled and calculated when torturing her physically. Even when impulsive, Marcus had raped her but hadn't threatened to kill her. Her lips trembled as she looked at him, not sure what she should say in response.

Marcus could see her confusion, the hesitancy in her. "Katie, do you really think I'll do such horrid things to you?" he asked again. She shook her head, still looking terrified. "This is what happens out there," he told her, enunciating carefully so that she understood him even though her shock. "This is what can happen."

Her lips trembled and she blinked back tears while looking at him. "What happens now?" she rasped, her voice breaking.

Marcus opened the shackles and lowered her to the floor. "You're coming with me, Katie."

The tears continued at the sound of his voice, quiet and without intonation. She wanted to ask him what he meant when he grasped her wrist, pulling her out of the cell. Her breath hitched in her chest and she hiccupped as she passed by the dead girl's body, trying to keep from screaming at the sight. How could they just leave her there to rot? How could they _do_ that? She wanted to pull away, to scream at Marcus, to figure out how she could get away from all this pain and death.

Katie lost track of the hallways and stairwells, until Marcus pushed her into a large, airy bedroom. It was easily twice the size of her childhood bedroom, done in light creamy colors with large glass windows and so much daylight that she was dizzy. She was hyperventilating, stepping backward and away from those windows, crashing into Marcus. He held her arms to steady her, and whatever muck was in her hair and on her clothes smeared across his chest. She was shaking so hard her teeth chattered, and Marcus spun her about to look at him.

"Katie?" he murmured, hands tight on her arms. "Are you all right?" She shook her head, blinking quickly to keep from sobbing again. "What's wrong?"

"It's so bright," she whimpered, shaking her head.

Marcus pulled her outside of the room and into the next one. The room was just as large, but the furniture was dark mahogany, the drapes were mostly drawn and everything in the room was a bit darker and more dramatic, all dark greens and blues. It was his bedroom, and connected to the other one by the bathroom. He had thought it would be an easier adjustment for her, but apparently was wrong. He sat her down at his desk and hovered next to her almost anxiously. There was a folder on the desk, closed, and a quill beside it, but Katie didn't seem to notice any of it. "Katie," he said, voice soft. "Are you all right?"

"What's going on?" she asked, her voice cracking, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. "I don't understand," she said, her voice rising until it was almost a wail.

Marcus opened the folder in front of her. "Read this, Katie."

With shaking fingers, she took up the sheets of parchment and read them. She came back to the beginning in shock and looked up at him incredulously. "Five years married to you?"

"Forever if we have children," he said, not about to tell her about the child that was even now trying to make a home in her womb. It was far too early for her to feel changes in her body.

Her lips trembled and she couldn't seem to put together coherent thoughts. "Why?"

Marcus let his hand slide down the front of her shirt to cup a breast, his thumb brushing over the nipple. She shivered under his touch. "Do you need to ask?"

Katie blinked back tears. She couldn't help but think of the dead girl, and wondered what would happen if she didn't sign this document. It was binding, with terms and conditions and esoteric _rules_ that would govern her for the entire course of its duration. She could hardly breathe through her panic, and he was _hovering_ too closely, setting off all of her nerves. She was making soft whimpering sounds of fear, and she bit her lip in shame.

"You don't have to sign it," Marcus told her gently, letting his hand fall from her breast into her lap. "I can always bring you back downstairs."

The whining sound grew louder, and Katie was aware that she was close to screaming. She was shaking so hard that she wondered why she was even still in the chair.

"Your cell is right where we left it," he continued in that same gentle tone. "I can bring you right back there and tuck you back into bed. This will all be a horrid dream."

She was stuttering, not sure what she was trying to say. But she couldn't go down there, couldn't return to the cell. She couldn't bear knowing about the dead girl so close to her, couldn't bear to think about the possibility of more dead girls in the other cells she hadn't checked. Katie pushed back from the desk violently, and ran from Marcus. He stood there, brows knit as he watched her. She hadn't run toward the door, hadn't made any moves toward his sleeve where his wand was kept. He even had her wand tucked into his shirt; he had retrieved it while he had been waiting for her under a disillusionment charm in the hallway.

Katie had run to the window, her hand clenched in the drape as she twitched it aside. She made a soft choking sound as she looked out of the window. "How long was I gone?" she rasped.

"It's mid-March now," Marcus told her. She was pale and shivering, teeth nearly chattering. She was in shock, and he hadn't thought she would react this badly. "I've had you since July."

She remembered July, remembered the Burrow and the twins and the plans they had made as if it had all been so simple. She felt the hot tears on her cheeks, and wiped at them hastily. "March," she whispered, still looking out of the window. She was facing a garden that seemed to just realize it was becoming spring. Katie turned to him with a mournful expression. "I've lost so much," she moaned. "I can't get that back."

"No, you can't," he agreed in a soft tone. "But you can begin again."

"As your personal whore?" she asked, voice breaking. She flinched at the way his jaw tightened, how unhappy he seemed by that.

"The terms are more than fair."

They would be married for five years unless she had a child; throughout that time she would be looked after and cared for, would lack for nothing. She knew she wasn't being fair. The contract said nothing about the origins of their relationship, said nothing about terms that would condemn her back to the dungeons. There was a vague section regarding disagreements that would be resolved as the situation saw fit, and a section regarding the possibility of adding further terms if they were both agreed upon. Katie wrapped her arms around herself and looked at him in distress. "So I sign that and marry you or I get locked away again?" she rasped.

She watched as Marcus approached her. He towered over her, and she felt small and helpless in front of him. She flinched as he touched her cheek, brushing at the damp spots. "It's your choice." His voice was soft, almost deceptively lulling.

"It isn't much of a choice," she replied, a shade tartly.

Marcus smiled at the sound of it. "It's still a choice. You have your own free will here."

Isolated in the lap of luxury or isolated in a cell. Not much of a choice.

Katie looked from his impassive face to the desk. "I'll sign it," she whispered in a voice she hardly recognized as her own. Marcus drew her back to the desk and had her sit down at the desk. If he had looked triumphant, she might have balked at actually signing it. But he seemed to understand that this was difficult for her, and didn't gloat at all. He signed on the line next to her signature, and she could feel the magic bind itself around her.

He laid a hand on her shoulder gently. "You can stay here with me until the wedding day. You'll have to stay next door, in that other room, for the preparations."

"Wedding," Katie echoed dumbly.

Marcus opened one of his desk drawers and removed a small ring box. He took her left hand and slid the ring there on her ring finger. She stared at it numbly, a classic diamond solitaire on a gold band. "We'll be married in a week and a half, on Easter Sunday." He held her numb hand in his, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. She shivered at his touch, and he kissed her temple tenderly. "The contract is binding starting today."

She could feel its magic sink into her skin the moment the contract had been signed. It felt final, like something she couldn't turn back from. Katie began to cry again, and let Marcus pull her into his embrace. That was familiar, achingly so, and she didn't know what to make of it.

But she had made her choice, and now she would have to live with it.

***  
***


	11. Staking The Claim

Katie spent the next week and a half in Marcus' room. He had never expressly forbid her from wandering about the mansion, but she didn't feel comfortable with the idea. His father might be around, and she had no idea how to get back to his rooms if she got lost. He even kept her wand in plain sight on his dresser, though Katie was almost too frightened to even touch it. She sat by the window mostly, looking out over the backyard with her knees pulled up to her chest. Apple brought her meals and books to read, took measurements for under things and a dress, and kept urging Katie to eat even though her nerves were in knots and she wasn't hungry.

It didn't feel the same as the dungeon cell, but Katie still had the sensation that she was trapped, that she had simply signed herself into a gilded cage.

She lay beside Marcus in his bed at night, his solid body a comfort and a curse at once. She didn't know why she didn't try to run, why she simply sat there and went through the motions of living as if it meant something. She didn't want to ask him, either. She was afraid of what he would say, what he would think of her.

He never threatened her with the dungeons, but she felt it hanging over her.

Everything came crashing down on her the morning of Easter Sunday, the day of her wedding. Her wedding, dear Merlin, and she had no idea what was going on with it. She knew her parents and friends weren't invited, and had the feeling that this would be nothing but a showcase of Death Eaters and their ilk. Katie got as far as the corset and stockings before she dissolved into helpless tears in the pale, bright room that Marcus had first shown her. She had great, heaving sobs that disquieted Apple when she appeared to check on Katie's progress, and if anything, the sight of the distressed house elf made Katie even more upset.

Apple found Marcus in the Manor easily enough, milling about and greeting guests before the wedding. His father was surly and closeted with the Carrows, no doubt discussing the intricacies of torture methods. Marcus largely ignored him and went about his business, chatting with his friends and deflecting the inevitable questions about how he met Katie.

Marcus excused himself from Montague's side and checked in with his house elf. "What?"

"The girl is upset. She won't stop crying. Apple cannot stop this."

Marcus blew out a breath and tried to count to ten. There was no point in kicking Apple; it wasn't the elf's fault and Katie had been fairly distant over the past week and a half. Before he knew it, however, Narcissa Malfoy was approaching him. "Something difficult happening?" she asked, an eyebrow arched. Draco was an usher, and Narcissa had earlier tried to offer help with planning the wedding, which he had refused.

"She's upset about something," Marcus growled. "I'll just..."

"I'll talk with her," Narcissa cut in smoothly. "She likely just needs a little pep talk."

Narcissa found Katie sitting on the bed in the white corset and stockings, the wedding dress laid out carefully behind her. She was still crying, her entire body shaking with her sobs. She looked up guiltily when the door opened, and Narcissa was struck by how young Katie seemed just then. All of the men and women downstairs were being catty, wondering how much Katie wanted from the Flint vaults. The Katie Bell crying on the bed was not the gold digging harpy that the others were considering. "Hullo," Narcissa said, a soft smile on her face. "You must be Miss Bell, the bride."

Katie nodded hesitantly, rubbing at her swollen eyes. She didn't recognize Narcissa, but there was a strong familiarity about her. It helped that Narcissa wasn't coming in screaming at her, which is what she had expected.

"I'm Narcissa Malfoy. My family's known the Flints for years." Narcissa came into the room and sat down across from Katie. She took in the swollen, red eyes and the smeared eye makeup, as well as the fact that she hadn't done anything with her hair yet. "It must be difficult getting ready all by yourself." Katie nodded, eyes welling up with tears again and her lower lip trembling. She didn't trust her voice to speak, and it only made Narcissa look at the girl in pity. "Don't you have any friends here with you to help? No maid of honor?"

To her horror, Katie burst into fresh tears and wailed. She brought her hands up to her mouth, but couldn't stop the wracking sobs that rolled through her. Narcissa reached out for her in concern, brows knit in consternation. "I want my Mum," Katie wailed, then clapped her hands over her mouth and looked so miserable that Narcissa couldn't help but pull the girl into her embrace. Katie was startled at first, but finally relaxed.

"You don't think she'd approve, then?" Narcissa asked, thinking it finally made sense. She didn't know the Bell family, really, which meant that Katie wasn't from Death Eater stock. None of the guests were tied to the Bells at all, and here Katie was overwhelmed and feeling out of her league. Katie had likely left everyone behind to marry Marcus, and was only just feeling the loss when the reality of it hit her.

"She... I couldn't tell her... I..." Katie turned to Narcissa with a miserable expression. "I made the best decision I could," she insisted, looking at Narcissa earnestly. "I did."

"You're so young," Narcissa murmured, touching Katie's hair. She had always wanted a daughter, but had been unable to have any children other than Draco. "How old are you?"

"Eighteen," Katie whispered, rubbing at her eyes like a small child.

Narcissa's heart went out to the girl. She was so young to be so alone with such a weighty decision as this, and she was no doubt worried that she would never be able to speak to her mother again. "Well, I know what it's like to have a child about that age," Narcissa said, her lips quirked into a smile. "And I remember how it was when I married at eighteen." She smiled encouragingly at Katie, who was sniffling and looking at Narcissa expectantly. "Whatever you're worried about, disapproval, anger, disappointment..." Katie nodded, lips trembling. "She's still your mother. And mothers will do _anything_ to be sure their children are safe and happy. I can assure you that's all she's concerned about."

"I made the best decision I could," Katie said, her eyes large and almost hopeful as she looked at Narcissa. She didn't know the other woman at all, but her presence was comforting, and it made the overwhelming feelings seem a little less frightening.

The smile Narcissa gave her was soft but genuine. She grasped Katie's hand tightly and gave it a squeeze. "Then she'll be happy for you. She'll get used to it in time."

"If Draco decided to marry someone like Ginny Weasley..." Katie began uncertainly.

Narcissa smiled at Katie encouragingly, even though she was obviously discomfited by the mere thought. "I'd hope she made him happy," Narcissa said tightly, patting Katie's hand gently. "But today is about you. And Marcus is such a thoughtful young man. He's making sure everyone is comfortable, and he's arranged for a long holiday for you together. He's from a good family, a long and proud lineage, and he's a hard worker." Narcissa patted Katie's hand when the girl seemed to be frozen in place. "And he's not so very highly placed, if you get my meaning. He's well respected enough that he won't likely be double crossed, but not so highly placed that he's a target on either side."

Katie hadn't wanted to think of how dangerous Marcus' life as a Death Eater was. She would rather think of him as some kind of stony, heartless figure to revile. She didn't want to think of him as an actual person, as difficult as that was becoming.

"Thank you," she said. Narcissa didn't know the circumstances of this marriage, a fact that Katie hadn't thought about before. But it was at least heartening to know that Marcus wasn't boasting about how he had beaten her down into submission.

"Here. Let me help you get started on your hair," Narcissa said, taking her wand out of her sleeve. She started in on curling charms, not asking what Katie had planned to do with her hair. She assumed that Katie was simply overwhelmed and would have done something plain. With a little help, Katie would look lovely for the day. Narcissa couldn't help but meddle; if she had a daughter, she would have been able to do something like this. "It's all right to be nervous," Narcissa told Katie kindly when she was done with the hair styling charms. "It's an important day today, after all. I know you'll be fine. Marcus wouldn't marry just anyone, after all. You're special to him, and I know it'll all be all right."

Katie's heart seemed to clench inside of her chest, and she could only watch helplessly as Narcissa left the room to return to the guests. She couldn't move, couldn't seem to wrap her mind around the fact that Narcissa thought Marcus thought she was special. How could that possibly be, if she was nothing more than a captive he had tortured into submission? Isn't that how he saw her? Wasn't this all just to prove the point that he could do whatever he wanted?

Apple checked in on Katie after five minutes and found her frozen in place. After whisking the dress away, Apple returned to Marcus' side. "The girl is still afraid, Master."

Marcus had been double checking that the bar was fully stocked, and wasn't in conversation with anyone. He had hoped that Narcissa's talk would have helped settle Katie's nerves, but supposed that he would just have to do this himself. He stalked into the room and stopped once he saw her sitting on the bed, staring forlornly out into space.

"Katie," he murmured, and saw her turn to look at him instantly. She had that lost look on her face, and he wondered if she was regretting her decision. It was too late to turn back now.

"I don't know if I can do this," she whispered, a fine tremor rolling through her. "I know I signed it, but I don't know if I can do this."

He took her face in his hands. "Katie..."

"I can't... Do they know?" she asked, her voice rising in panic. "Will they laugh and point and stare at me? Am I stuck in here forever? I want to see my parents. I want to see my friends. I want to get on a broom again. Will I be able to play quidditch?" she asked, her voice spiraling up in panic. "What am I _doing?"_

The irrational fear that she was rejecting him eased. "You're marrying me."

"I know I signed that contract, but..."

"Not everything has to be outlined in that contract, Katie," he told her patiently. "It's all right to figure out some bits as we go along." He could feel the fine tremors in her and understood the fears that were bubbling to the surface. "You don't understand what this is, do you?"

"Why are we doing this?" she asked, eyes searching his face insistently.

He lifted her to her feet easily enough and kissed her roughly. "I want a future with you in it," he said, voice hard and edged with something he couldn't name. He slid his fingers inside her lace knickers to trace her folds. She gasped, clutching hold of his shoulders as he dragged a fingertip through those curls between her legs. "You don't understand," he said patiently, moving his fingertip until he brushed it against her clit and she jerked in his arms. "I'm marrying you. I'm giving you my name, my lineage and my heritage. I'm giving you my protection." His other hand was splayed across her back, and his protective instincts were at their most intense. "I promise to protect you from everyone downstairs and everyone outside of this house. I will even protect you from yourself if I have to."

"Who protects me from you, then?" she gasped as he made lazy circles around her clit.

"Will you need protection from me?" he countered, fingers moving faster over her. Katie clung to him, nearly sobbing again, feeling confused and overwhelmed. She had no idea why the hell she was agreeing to do this, other than the knowledge that it kept her from being thrust back into the dark cells in the dungeons. Marcus held her close as he worked her body quickly, bringing her to orgasm in his arms. He wanted to fuck her right there, but the wedding ceremony was set to start in twenty minutes. "This will work," he told her, releasing her slowly. "Get dressed, do your face, and let's get married."

Katie blinked at his retreating back and did as he said.

The ceremony itself was understated and elegant as well as thankfully short. Katie said all that she was expected to say, and everything ran smoothly. She vaguely recognized Warrington as the best man and ring bearer, and was at least pleased that her hands didn't shake as much as she thought that they might. Her voice had been clear, and Marcus gave her an approving look before his relatively chaste kiss to seal their vows. She could still feel the press of his lips against hers even as they danced in front of the assembled guests at the reception in the Manor's ballroom and gardens. She felt everyone's eyes on her keenly; if she didn't know any better, she would have thought that they all knew the truth about her.

There was no dance with Marcus' father, thankfully. Her skin crawled at the thought of even touching him, and she did her part to try to keep names and faces straight as they lined up to greet her at Marcus' side. Narcissa was thoughtful enough to draw Katie aside with a few other young ladies of that circle, making introductions. Katie hadn't known most of them, even if they had been the same year at school. She had been too busy with Quidditch and trying to keep up in classes while flying at all hours of the day. And then later had come the DA and trying to catch up on all of her missing time seventh year. She hadn't known too many girls outside of her House, and certainly not any Slytherin ones.

Aurelius Flint found Katie alone during the reception, however. He had grasped her upper arm painfully tight and drew her aside from the bridal dais. "I don't know what magic you've done to my son to make him go through with this farce," he hissed, not even looking at her pale face. "But I would cut any grandchild out of you as soon as possible if it could live without you. Am I understood?" he hissed, giving her arm a shake. "There are more appropriate brides for my son than you, and I will not suffer you to live one moment longer than necessary."

_My father would wonder why I haven't killed you yet,_ Marcus had said, and Katie thought of the thick, ugly scar on her mother's stomach. Clara didn't wear bikini swimsuits or short tops even in the hottest summers, not wanting anyone to see or ask about the scar. Katie knew that Clara didn't want to think about that awful experience, the horror and fear that the Death Eaters had left her with.

_And I just married one,_ Katie thought numbly, moving away when Aurelius let her go. It was as if she was moving underwater, and she wondered when this awful reception would end. She wasn't really a bride, right? This was just the gilding on her prison. This was what she had agreed to endure to stay out of the dungeon and save her own skin.

Marcus found her and immediately looked concerned. "Let's go into the gardens for some air. You look about ready to faint," he said. Katie noticed that one of the girls she had met earlier heard the comment, and received a sympathetic look. Marcus pulled her into a quiet corner of the garden and scowled at her. "Out with it. What did my father say to you?"

"Wh-what?" Katie stammered, feeling as though she was waking up from a nightmare. "It isn't a big deal," she said, tripping over her words. She couldn't ask him to side against his father, not in a place or time like this. She didn't mean enough to him and it would never happen anyway. It was his _father,_ and Marcus was of the same mold, wasn't he?

"You're as white as your dress," Marcus intoned. "What did he tell you?" he asked, tipping her face up to meet his gaze. "I saw him with you." He could feel the tremor in her that she tried to suppress, the loathing she was trying to hide. "Just tell me," he said, his voice gentling.

"Promise me," she whispered instead, dropping her eyes from his. "Just... Promise me you won't cut it out of me? Or leave me for dead like that girl..."

"What are you talking about?"

"If I have a baby," Katie said, blinking back the faint sheen of tears. "Promise me you won't cut me open for it? Or just take it away or leave me dead? Please?"

Marcus wanted to curse himself for a fool for not warning Warrington that his father should not be allowed anywhere near Katie. "Forget whatever he said to you," Marcus told Katie. "I told you, I'll protect you from him. I meant it."

"But he's your father..."

"And sometimes he's wrong," Marcus said shortly, startling Katie. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her lightly. "Don't think about him."

Katie looked at him with a vulnerable expression, her hand coming up to cover his. "Oh."

"Here you are!"

They both turned at the sound of the voice, and there was the flash of wizarding photography. Adrian Pucey stood there, tie askew and camera in hand. "I thought you'd gone off by yourselves for a bit." He grinned at the two of them. "Come on, now. Back inside with you."

"You'll do fine," Marcus said under his breath as they headed back into the Manor. Katie was left wondering what he was thinking by all of this, and what it would mean for her long term.

The rest of the reception went well, which surprised Katie. The girl that had seen her pale and nearly trembling turned out to be Adrian's sister Alexandra, who had been her year at Hogwarts. Katie had stammered an apology for not recognizing her, citing her focus on quidditch at the time. Alexandra had actually laughed. "So _that's_ what you have in common with Marcus then!" she had exclaimed, as if it was perfectly natural for Katie and Marcus to be together and not some kind of cosmic oddity. "All he and Adrian ever talked about was quidditch, too." She had smiled easily at Katie and linked their arms together. "Don't worry. Whenever you get back from your holiday, I'll reintroduce you to everyone and we can get together for tea."

It felt painfully ordinary, as if she had every right to be there, as if she belonged to the same social circle. Katie supposed that now she was married, she did.

Katie was even more surprised by her response to Marcus on their wedding night. He locked his bedroom door as he usually did and undressed her slowly, the yards of lace and silk strewn carelessly aside. Instead of being passive, she undressed him as well, tracing the hard planes of muscle and bone. She kissed every scar she found on his skin, every fading bruise. He'd touched her as well, and she willingly straddled him. He'd held her hips, pulling her faster and harder against him, and Katie clutched at his shoulders for balance as she gasped from the feel of him inside of her. They seemed to wordlessly move from one position to the next, until Katie was exhausted and curled up beside Marcus on the bed. He had an arm around her protectively, and she almost asked him what he was thinking. But she didn't want him to ask her what she felt when she didn't even know what it was. This wasn't love or acceptance or anything like that, was it? She could have run. She could have refused to marry him, despite signing that magical contract. She could have done something other than allow herself to be swept up in whatever it was that he was planning.

But then he tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling at the careful curls still left from Narcissa's styling charms. Katie looked up and saw his careless smile, the same kind he had with his friends earlier, and wondered at it. "What is it?" she asked.

"You're worrying about something. Just sleep. We've a lot of traveling we're going to be doing," he told her. His lips quirked into something that might have been a smile on a more handsome man. "You'll grow into the role of my wife," he said reasonably. "No need to worry about it so much. Just rest."

Katie found it frightening that he had gotten to know her so well.

She was speechless the next day. The first stop on their three month honeymoon was her parents' new home. She stared at the front door when Marcus apparated them there, feeling weak in the knees. "Surprise, Princess," he murmured into her ear as he knocked on the door.

Clara Bell was the one to open the door, and she shrieked with joy at the sight of Katie, sweeping her up into a breathtaking hug. Marcus merely followed them into the flat and shut the door behind him. He could feel Harold's eyes on him and his left arm but ignored it. He knew neither Bell was stupid; they would have read between the lines of his owl. It had been an announcement of the wedding and not an invitation "to reduce the discomfort that might arise from political differences." Marcus didn't have to do this, and he was sure that both Bells knew that as well. It was worth it to see Katie's tears of happiness, to see her look alive again.

Marcus and Harold sat across from each other in the living room of the flat as Clara and Katie moved to the kitchen. "Good of you to inform us of the wedding," Harold told Marcus stiffly.

Marcus didn't particularly care if his father-in-law wished him harm. "Katie missed you."

"You've been looking after her, then?" Harold asked, something of a challenge in his tone.

"Yes," Marcus said shortly. He didn't elaborate, even when Harold clearly wanted to know more. It wasn't any of the man's business how Marcus had looked after his daughter, and he didn't care what the former Auror thought of him. He was a _former_ Auror, and the Ministry belonged to the Death Eaters now. There was nothing to be afraid of.

Clara sat Katie down at the kitchen table and set a cup of tea and some biscuits in front of her. "Katie, we were so worried. We heard nothing for _months,_ and then came the owl from that Marcus Flint fellow saying you were getting married..." Clara sat down across from Katie. "Honey, what happened?"

To her horror, Katie began to tear up almost involuntarily. She covered her mouth with one hand as she shook her head and gripped the table edge tightly. "Mum..."

"It was that bad?" Clara asked, covering the Katie's hand at the table with hers. Of all people, Clara knew that sometimes there was no way to put words to an unspeakable event.

Katie nodded and forced herself to sit up straight and look her mother in the eye. "I did what I could, Mum. I did the best I could. I did..."

Clara squeezed Katie's hand tightly. "I know you would. You would never do anything less."

Tears still threatened to spill over her lashes, but Katie blinked them back fiercely. She would not cry over this. She would _not._ "I'm sorry, Mum. I couldn't contact anyone..."

"Hush, honey," Clara said soothingly. "It was bad, you said. I believe you. It's been terrible back home, I know that." She reached out and smoothed Katie's hair from the side of her face. "Life isn't a storybook, I know that. I've been around the world a bit, you know."

Katie tried to smile at her mother's attempt to calm her. "I chose this," she whispered, thinking of the dim cell and the dead eyes of the girl in one of Aurelius' cells in the dungeon. "I chose to marry Marcus..."

"You don't have to explain," Clara said softly, and Katie thought her heart was breaking a little. "Love makes us all do odd things sometimes."

Katie wanted to shout at her mother that it wasn't like that, she didn't love him, she _couldn't_ love him, she _wouldn't_ love him. There was no way in all the circles of hell that it could happen, and she wouldn't let it. But she leaned into his touch and didn't run away, didn't fight him or try to harm him anymore. She stopped shrieking in her head when he reached for her, when he smiled at her, and she knew all of his smiles and expressions that he had used with her. Katie settled for looking down in her lap. "I don't know what this is. I don't." She looked back up at her mother. "It was my decision to do this, but I can't even explain it."

Clara gave a soft sigh. "He protects you from it, doesn't he?" she asked, voice soft. Katie noticed that one of her mother's hands was surreptitiously pressed against her abdomen, against the ugly, thick scar tissue that lay just beneath the fabric of her shirt. "From whatever happened, the thing you can't talk about?" Katie couldn't quite meet her mother's gaze, and Clara leaned forward slightly. "I understand, Katie, I do. I know how this works. I lived through the first war, remember. I know how they are. Of all people, _I know."_

And she did know. That was part of the problem.

"It's all right if you want to talk about it sometime, and I'll understand if you don't. We knew what his owl might mean..."

"Can I see it?" Katie asked abruptly, voice hoarse. Her mother had mentioned an owl, but she hadn't known anything about it. Clara fetched the owl, creased and well-read already, from the refrigerator where it was pinned with a magnet. Katie looked over the formal words of the announcement, the veiled comment that it wouldn't be good for them to be present. "I hadn't realized he sent this..." she murmured, more to herself than for her mother's benefit. Her chest felt tight and sensitive, though she couldn't have named what it was that made her feel that way.

"He cares a lot, doesn't he, sweetheart?" Clara asked softly as Katie refolded the owl and handed it back. "It seems as though he does."

Katie wanted to reassure her mother that she was fine. She wanted to tell her mother that it wasn't what it looked like, that this wasn't a real relationship, not like the one that Clara and Harold had. But the words stuck in her throat and Katie merely looked at the owl between her mother's fingers. "He's a Death Eater, Mum."

"I thought as much," Clara murmured. "But he's also the man you married, and he's still a person. He still has feelings about you." Clara's words were soft and measured. "I don't pretend to understand what happened or how the two of you decided this was best. But I understand it. Sometimes the safest place to hide is right under their nose. I _understand,_ Katie, I do. It's all right."

Katie bit her lip and threw her arms around her mother, holding her tightly. She kept her eyes shut tight, feeling the burn of tears behind her eyelids. "I missed you so much, Mum."

"Oh, Katie-bug," Clara said, holding her daughter tight. "I missed you, too. I worried every day, praying you'd come home safe and sound."

"I'm here, Mum," Katie whispered. "I'm all right. Really, I'm all right."

Clara pulled back and smiled. "Now, your Marcus promised pictures of the wedding for us?"

_Your Marcus._ Katie's heart stopped for a moment, but she couldn't really deny it. She was wearing two of his rings on her left hand, she shared his bed and she had agreed to bear his children. "We should ask him. He arranged the trip..."

"You'll stay with us for a while, of course," Clara said as they moved back into the living room, addressing Marcus.

Marcus lofted an eyebrow at Harold, who had been sitting there in tense silence. "Are we both welcome?" he asked.

"Of course you are," Clara said, moving next to Harold. The owl Marcus had sent was still in her hand. "I think it's time to look at those wedding pictures you promised us."

Katie looked to Marcus expectantly, and he calmly took out a miniaturized box from the inner pocket of his blazer jacket. He quickly enlarged it, and handed the box to Clara. She opened it delightedly, and even Harold didn't look completely angry with Marcus as Clara passed the photos along to him. Katie looked over her mother's shoulder, occasionally looking up at Marcus' deceptively placid face. He was watching her reaction, watching so closely that her stomach fluttered almost nervously.

"I remember that one," Katie murmured, more for something to say than anything else. "Adrian took that one in the gardens." Her parents hung on every syllable, looking from her to the photo and back, and Katie realized that they _wanted_ this to be all right. They _wanted_ this to be a viable relationship. They _wanted_ to think of Katie settled somewhere and safe, that the months of worrying had led to something worthwhile. They could tolerate Marcus being a Death Eater and silent and acting like a block of granite if it meant that Katie was all right and safe.

They wanted this to be real, because the alternative was unthinkable.

***  
***


	12. Finding The Balance

Katie took in her bedroom in her parents' flat and wanted to scream. She was supposed to share this room. With Marcus. As husband and wife. Her brain kept stuttering to a stop at the concept of it. The bedroom was small and spare, with only a twin bed. She hadn't been in the room long enough to personalize it; she'd spent more time in the dingy dungeon cell being tortured than in this bedroom. It wasn't the room she thought of as hers, it wasn't the place she thought of as home. Yet here she was, standing in her bedroom as Marcus shut the door behind them, and she wanted to crumple to tears.

She spun around as Marcus layered silencing charms onto the door and walls. He turned and faced her calmly, putting his wand down onto the desk. Her own was in her sleeve, smooth and cold against her skin. She hadn't cast any spells with it since its return. Magic felt strange to her now, like a gift she had to open at the right moment and savor once she did.

"The walls are thin," he told her, eyebrow lofted slightly. "Unless you want them to hear?"

Katie couldn't breathe as she shook her head. "I couldn't... I couldn't tell her..." Marcus waited patiently, an arm's length away from her. If anything, the quiet, solemn patience undid her better than the fierce determined gazes he used to give her. "She'd understand too much," Katie said, her voice breaking as tears welled up. "I couldn't do that to her."

He grasped her face in his hands. "It's no one's business but your own what you tell them. I won't say a word. What people know is up to you."

Which meant no one would ever know but Marcus, and it would forever be something that bound them irrevocably together.

The knowledge burned Katie; she was a coward, she knew it but couldn't help it. She flinched from his gaze and sat down on her bed. "They think... They think we're together because we love each other. I let them believe the lie."

"Of course you did," he said reasonably, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "It's easier to have them think that. Love is fickle. It's easy to believe in something like that."

Katie looked up. "Real love is anything but that," she said, her voice raw. "It's something that makes you do impossible things, that can break you to pieces without even trying. It's savage and strange when it's real."

Marcus drew her back up to her feet, his hands a solid presence on her shoulders. "I don't ask for love. I have your loyalty. I have your fidelity. That's all I need."

It sounded like a bleak future, even if it was possibly the best outcome she could have hoped for given their past. She didn't say anything in response, and he traced the curve where her shoulder met her neck. Katie could feel the heat curl low in her belly, the wanting his touch could bring when his gaze was intent on her that way. She could almost feel his kiss on her lips already, the way his fingers would slide across her bare skin to tease her before he brought her release. She didn't understand why he wanted _her_ for this. There had been plenty of beautiful witches at the wedding, plenty of girls staring at her in confused hatred. They were more than willing to be dutiful Death Eater wives. Why her?

She didn't realize she had said it aloud until he paused when coming closer to kiss her.

"You aren't broken," Marcus told her simply. Katie didn't seem to believe the statement, and flinched when he grasped her hair and tugged on it. She looked up at him, though, and met his gaze head on. "You look me in the eye, and you've never told me a single name. No matter what I did, you didn't break."

"How is that something worth marrying for?"

His expression was shuttered, though Katie could tell that he was disturbed by the question somehow. "Other girls would've said anything to save themselves. They would've done anything to stop me, sold out anyone close to them. You never broke. And now you're with me."

By his tone of voice, Katie could tell that he considered the matter closed. That just because she had signed a contract, she automatically transferred that same unwavering devotion to him, that she would protect him the same way.

But by keeping silent about how he had tortured her, wasn't it the same thing?

"It's not the same," Katie insisted, her voice still raw.

Marcus had one hand at her back, the other at her shoulder. It was like a weight holding her down, though she could easily move aside and leave. She could push him, hurt him, cast spells on him. She could do _something,_ but she stood there staring up at him and was arguing semantics. Something was very wrong with her.

"Why should it be?" he asked her, eyebrow raised. "You asked why I married you." He pushed her gently toward her bed, and she backed up until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed. She sat down when he continued to push her back. "You didn't break. You're Pureblood. You still have a spirit. That's what I want in my children. I want children that will fight for what needs to be done, not turn tail and run."

There was a fleeting moment of panic when he hovered over her, pushing her to her back. "What are you doing?" Katie asked, voice trembling with fear.

"Is it wrong to want to bed my bride?" he asked, eyebrow raised and an amused tilt to his lips.

"But my parents..."

"Won't hear anything with all of those silencing charms." He slid his hand beneath the edge of her blouse across the skin of her abdomen. "And in the exceedingly off chance that I missed a spot somewhere, you said they think we're in love."

Katie's gut clenched painfully, and she turned her head away so that she couldn't see his smug expression. "I don't like lying to them," she choked out.

He pressed his lips against her temple. "Who said you had to lie?"

"I can't tell them what you did," she choked. "I can't... I still have nightmares and I don't want to think about them."

"I know," he said, voice soft. "You try to scream in your sleep. I hear it."

She pressed a hand to her mouth, still unable to look at him. Why did she stay? She could leave right now, contract be damned. She could curse him, could torture him back, could do something other than lie beneath him remembering the awful and wonderful things he had done to her. She had been a capable witch before he had caught her. She could have been anything, and now she felt like she was nothing.

Marcus turned her face toward his, taking in the shine of unshed tears. "You're with me because I'm better than the alternative," he said slowly. "You're with me because no one else would understand, and we don't have to say a fucking word about it, ever. Because the nightmares will stop eventually, and you won't want to scream when you look at me. One day you might even be glad about this. The world is getting worse, Katie. They're killing everything you ever loved about it, and pretty soon there will be nothing left."

Katie struck at his chest helplessly and let the tears fall. "I hate you."

"I know," he said, nodding. He unbuttoned her blouse and cupped her breasts in his hands. "I didn't expect anything less." He moved down to kiss her neck, to lick at the pulse beating feverishly beneath her skin. He had stopped hating her a long time ago, though he couldn't exactly explain when or why. He knew she would hate him for a long time, knew he deserved every last bit of it.

Marcus pushed into her waiting body, hearing her choked sobs. She clutched at his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his waist even as she sobbed "I hate you" against his ears.

He knew that. He deserved that. He didn't deserve any better.

***

They stayed for nearly three weeks with the Bells before moving on to one of the Flint properties on the Mediterranean. Katie had never been to the area before, and Marcus almost enjoyed seeing everything from her perspective as an outsider. She stood in the windows and looked out at the beachfront, the rolling waves rhythmically coming in. She sat on the beach staring out at the water, wonder etched into her features, almost easily startled by the newness of everything around her. It had been a shock to hear herself be referred to as Mrs. Flint by the villa staff or restaurant maitre d' and waiters, to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirrors they passed. She didn't look terribly different on the outside, though she felt different.

The world didn't look the same around her, and she didn't feel the same about herself. It was a terrible kind of knowledge, the kind that dimmed the brightness in her gaze.

Marcus was quiet during most outings. He stayed close to her, sometimes touching her back or her arm, but didn't feel as though he hovered over her. He patiently talked about the property, the staff members, the Wizarding village near the villa. He ordered meals in flawless French and Italian, and seemed to carry himself with an eerie self awareness. He didn't look nearly as hunted as he had sometimes when he came to the dungeons, and it made him seem somewhat less frightening as a result. He was almost sweet when he tucked roses into her hair or spun her out for an impromptu dance on the villa patios in the afternoons. Katie was almost afraid to ask him about flying, but he brought out brooms and an old, well-worn quaffle. Getting on the broom was almost like being a firstie again, all nervous apprehension that everything she had learned on her own wouldn't fit. But it was like she had never gotten off the broom, and she rediscovered her love of flying. Being on the broom after these long months was easier than it had been after returning to Hogwarts from St. Mungo's.

Katie discovered how much she liked walking through the grounds and taking care of the flower gardens that had run wild. She'd never given much thought to gardens or trees or growing things before; they had always been nuisances that got in the way of her flying low or trying to do barrel rolls or trick flips in the backyard. Maybe her time in the dungeons made her appreciate the greenery, the sun at her back and the breeze floating through the tendrils of hair that snaked out of her ponytail. It was calming and peaceful, something new that couldn't really remind her of anything horrible.

Marcus tended to read or paint if left alone, and Katie hadn't known that about him before. It explained his eye for detail and how he always seemed to know things. He wasn't very good at the painting, but that didn't seem to stop him in the slightest. Katie usually found him sprawled across a couch in the villa library, book in hand when she came in from the gardens. The tension lines in his face eased and his shoulders weren't as tight. He was almost careless about letting her wander through the villa or the nearby village. He rarely asked her where she was going if she said she was going out, and the trust there was baffling. It was tempting to look at the open streets in the village and think about running away, of apparating back to England to help the Order. But the issues of the Prophet that filtered to the villa were full of bleak articles, death lurking between the lines.

Marcus was still gentle with her, and it was almost disturbing how much she enjoyed his company before she realized she enjoyed it. Once she did, Katie had to remind herself that he was a Death Eater and she belonged to the Order. She hated him. He did awful, unspeakable things and he had been the one to twist her into a helpless, dependent creature. But he also touched her with unbearable tenderness, drawing her to his side to show her things in the gardens he thought she might like. He paid careful attention to her, the same way he had before, but without the sinister air.

It unsettled Katie to know how much she liked being the center of his attention.

They were flying over the acreage when Katie noticed his grip on the broom changed. His left arm was cradled to his chest and his lips were pressed tightly together. She might have missed it if she hadn't turned to look at him to see if he was ready to have the quaffle thrown at him. If she had tossed it, he might have caught it anyway. He was stoic about things like pain and misery, his face an impassive mask.

Katie slowed and pulled up so that she was flying beside him. "What is it?"

"Nothing," he said in clipped tones. But his grip on the broom was white-knuckled, and his left hand was balled into a tight fist.

She reached out and steadied him. He wasn't about to fall, but he wasn't watching where he was going anymore, either. "Let's land. We can fly later." He nodded, nearly grunting at her, and she knew he was in much more pain than he was willing to admit, but didn't examine her reaction to him too closely. She was disturbed enough by their camaraderie already.

Marcus stumbled on the landing, and Katie caught his upper arm to steady him. It was absurd, the petite girl steadying the lumbering giant of a man, but he grimaced his thanks. "Show me," she told him with a sigh, reaching for the covered left forearm. As warm as it was, he usually wore long sleeved shirts that covered the Dark Mark. Maybe he hadn't wanted to upset her, though she still saw it in bed every night.

It was usually a garish tattoo that covered the inner forearm. Now it writhed and burned his skin, the area around it red and raw looking. The tongue flickered out, nearly hissing, its eyes flashing almost ominously. Katie looked up in concern. "What does this mean?"

"It's a summons," he ground out between grit teeth. "A fairly important one, actually."

"So you're going?"

He shook his head and abruptly yanked the shirtsleeve back down to cover the Mark. "I've got permission to ignore any summons until we're back from holiday. Unless our Lord calls for me directly, I'm allowed to stay."

Our Lord. Katie thought she was going to be ill.

He grimaced at her expression. "I'm not important enough to be needed, and we've only been away a month. It'll be fine." He grasped her hand in his and squeezed. "You're not rid of me yet, Princess," he said, lips twisting into a wry grin.

Katie looked at him in concern. "But that hurts."

"I'm used to it," he said shortly. "It'll go away in time."

"You're used to that? It looks awful."

"It's been almost four years, Katie. I'm as used to it as I could possibly be," Marcus told her patiently. "That's how it works."

Katie frowned and gently pulled the shirtsleeve back up. She covered the writhing Dark Mark with her hand. She could feel it moving beneath her palm. "You're in a lot of pain, aren't you?"

"It goes down to the bone," Marcus replied instead of answering.

"You do a lot of things because of this, don't you?"

He took her quiet question seriously. "I had to take the Mark when I graduated. That's the way it was. We have to save our families, Katie. That's what it's about."

"They're killing people. Torturing them. Doing Merlin knows what else."

"Not everyone does," Marcus replied softly, shrugging. She had no idea how he could remain calm when everything from his skin to his bones were being contorted from the force of the Dark Mark's summons. "There's always a price to pay. Keeping our culture and our families Pure has a cost. Both sides pay it, not just one."

"Is that Purity worth the cost of everyone's lives?"

"Not everyone dies," he told her simply. "But things are already changing. Traditions are getting diluted, Muggle things keep bleeding into our way of life. Villages are dying. My family has been in shipping for generations. Orders for Wizarding things drop as more Muggleborn come into Hogwarts. Even the ones that assimilate don't really settle into villages, don't really take on our way of life. The older generations die, and the newer ones are moving on to ape a Muggle way of life. That shouldn't happen."

Katie didn't know how to reply to that. Her mother was Muggleborn, and Katie knew what he was talking about. She had grown up with Muggle biscuits and toys and tea alongside her Beedle the Bard tales and the sort of toys that Pureblood Wizard children had. She had always taken it for granted, hadn't thought twice about what it meant.

Marcus closed his right hand over hers. "The real world is made in shades of gray, Katie. That's just how it is."

"Can't there be a way to save the culture without killing everyone?"

His smile was sardonic. "Not when neither side listens. But then, if I said this back home, I'd be tortured for it." He laughed bitterly at Katie's wide eyed expression. "Oh, I'm sure the Order doesn't have corporal punishment, but they'd drum out anyone sympathizing with the enemy, wouldn't they? Everyone polarizes, Katie. Not just Death Eaters."

It almost wasn't a surprise when she discovered she was pregnant. She had realized it was May while shopping in the village. That led to the realization that she hadn't gotten her period since the end of February. Considering how often Marcus tugged off her clothes, it wasn't surprising. To be fair, she sought out his touch as well. She hated what he had done to her, what he had reduced her to, but there were some parts of him that she couldn't quite hate either.

He grinned when she told him about the pregnancy, how she was fairly sure it was true. Katie turned down the offer of a healer to confirm it, of spells or tests or anything of that sort. She knew deep down that it was true.

Her five year contract had just turned into a lifetime sentence.

Marcus pressed his open palm against her chest, just above her beating heart. "Stop worrying, Katie," he murmured softly, stretched out on the bed beside her. "It's not good for you."

"You said we're heading back in July," Katie said, and her heart fluttered nervously in her chest. July again. It was almost a year since she had been captured, almost a year that they've been together in this mockery of a relationship.

"I can extend it, if you like," Marcus drawled. "There are the other properties to visit. We don't have to stay here the entire time."

"Other properties," Katie echoed numbly. She had gotten the impression that the Flints were wealthy, but she still couldn't quite process it.

"This was our summer house," Marcus remarked, sliding his hand down to rest over her belly. It was still flat, but would round out soon enough. "There's a chalet in the Swiss Alps that we used to go to a lot in the winter. And there's a house in Bali that I inherited from my uncle. No one's been there in years. That's it. Not too many, really."

"Four houses and a business isn't too many?" Katie asked, looking at him incredulously.

"Not in our circle," he replied with a negligent shrug. "The Malfoys have a dozen, probably, since they have most of the Black estates. The Warringtons have a few, but they're all pretty large and ostentatious. Pucey's got a few like we've got. Bletchley's family has eight small places here and there. I heard tell that Rowle's got a flat in every country in Europe. There's others that really don't have properties anymore, like the Lestranges. Their assets were seized when they were sent to Azkaban after the first war."

All these names, casually tossed about when Katie had only heard them before as frightened whispers overheard in corridors. "It seems unreal somehow."

Marcus' hand on her stomach was a heavy but comfortable weight. "This is how things are for you now," he remarked. "Purebloods are a privileged class, that's all. That's how it should be."

Katie shook her head. "There's earning it."

"I work," he told her, shrugging. "When I'm not lazing about as a newlywed, I cover the inventory department. That's why I know things are changing for the worse, that village shops are drying up and dying. Orders slow down, freights aren't as full, goods don't get bought, things close up. That shouldn't be happening this quickly."

Katie covered his hand with hers, fingertips tracing the livid burn scar on his hand. It reminded her of her mother's scars. Some people carried them outside, visible on the skin. Others carried them deep, carved into sinew and bone. "I don't want to be near your father," she admitted softly, not looking up. "I'm not that brave."

Marcus' laughter was mirthless. "I wouldn't ask it of you. Stress isn't good for you or the baby. I'll do something about him, figure some way to keep you separate at the Manor. It's large enough with just the three of us rattling about in it."

She couldn't help but think of his dead mother, of how she must have displeased Aurelius to be murdered when Marcus was a young boy. "Would you kill me someday?" she asked quietly.

"I told my father I would if you got out of line," Marcus admitted. "I'm not sure if I meant it."

"Because of our contract?"

"Maybe."

They remained beside each other on the bed, and Katie wondered what was happening between them. She should have hated him more. She should have done something to him in revenge. She should have been a better Gryffindor.

"I'm not brave enough to break the contract," Katie murmured.

"It's not bravery you lack," Marcus said, matching her quiet tone. "There's more bravery in acting despite fear than rushing ahead when you know you're safe. That's what I want in our children."

Our children. Katie's hand tightened over his, and he pressed his lips to her temple. Funny how the thought didn't seem so hopeless.

***  
***


	13. Endings and Beginnings

There was a light wind blowing when Marcus and Katie apparated back to England. They were at the public apparition point near Flint Manor, and Katie's stomach did nervous flip flops when she realized where they were. Just over a year ago, she had seen this same view under moonlight and furtive glances. It was the beginning of August, and Marcus had promised to do something nice for her birthday. They'd stayed longer than he initially planned, but no one had summoned him and no one had owled him. He wasn't necessary, so a little more time on their honeymoon could be excused.

By the thunderous look of anger and confusion on his face, Katie could tell he hadn't planned on using the public apparition point. "What is it?"

"The wards have changed." He flicked his wand out, testing the wards on the property, and Katie could see a faint shimmer not too far away from them. "Someone's locked down the Manor and all of the grounds, and it wasn't my father."

_Who was it?_ she wanted to ask, but the words were heavy in her mouth. Marcus' brows were knit in concentration as he tested the wards, picking apart the strands of magic she could barely even see. He stopped abruptly after a moment, snorting in derision. "What?"

"Malfoy's behind this. Fucking Ministry locked down everything and froze all of our assets, apparently. And the twat has the nerve to add a little tag line to talk to him before going in to talk to the Minister of Finance. He certainly grew a pair in my absence," Marcus growled.

"Malfoy? As in, Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Seeker Malfoy?" Katie asked, eyebrows crawling toward her hairline. She only remembered him as an annoying prat trying to wind up Harry and Ron whenever he could. "He never was a graceful loser," she muttered.

Marcus' lips quirked into a smile. "No, he never was," he agreed. "And the arrogant bastard used to be a protégé of sorts."

Katie tried to wrap her mind around the concept of Marcus as a mentor. She failed.

He laughed at her expression. "Just because we were groomed for the roles doesn't mean everyone can do it naturally. Malfoy's father never really trained him up properly, so the idiot didn't know how to keep his mouth shut or his head down." He grasped her arm and sighed. "I suppose I'll deal with him. I don't know who the Minister of Finance is anyway. I know Thornton wanted the seat, but I've been out of the loop for too long."

Malfoy Manor seemed just as imposing as Flint Manor, only with more ostentatious fencing and grounds keeping. Then she caught sight of the albino peacocks. "Are they bloody serious?" she asked before she could stop herself.

Marcus followed her gaze and cracked a smile. "Malfoy the elder's addition to the grounds. They are actually quite vicious."

"You're kidding," Katie scoffed, rolling her eyes at him. "They look harmless."

"They're harmless the same way you are," Marcus told her, shaking his head. "Come on," he went on, oblivious to her surprise. "Let's go talk to this wanker and sort this out."

Draco was as pale as Katie remembered, but there was something else about him that she couldn't quite put her finger on. He seemed less like an insufferable brat and more like an edged thing, brittle in places. He'd grown up while she was missing, in ways she didn't want to think about. The little she had gleaned from Marcus about being a Death Eater indicated that it was dangerous and potentially deadly even amongst their own ranks.

"You're going to want to sit down for this," he began, looking at the pair. "And possibly have some brandy first."

"Out with it," Marcus snarled at Draco. "What the fuck makes you think you can lock me out of my own goddamn home?"

Katie remembered the rage he had come at her with that first night in the dungeon, the cold and calculated precision of his blows. While Draco didn't know any of that, he still blanched at the tone of Marcus' voice. "The Ministry did that. Didn't you hear? We lost."

The wind seemed to be knocked out of Marcus and even Katie couldn't believe it. "We were in Bali for the past six weeks," she told Draco. "There wasn't any Prophet delivery there, and we hadn't gotten a current one for weeks before that."

Draco blew out a breath. "And please tell me you didn't try going to the Ministry first?"

"I came straight here after seeing your sodding love note on my wards," Marcus spat.

"Good. The Minister of Magic is Kingsley Shacklebolt. Apparently he was high up in the Order," Draco told them. "The Minister of Finance is Matthew Hedgerow, if you can believe that shite. He was another Order member, though." He didn't bother asking before starting to pour out a brandy. After a moment's thought, he started to pour one for Katie.

"She can't have any," Marcus interrupted Draco, snatching his glass. At Draco's questioning look, Marcus took up Katie's hand in his. "Any shocks at this time would be bad, too."

"Oh," Draco murmured. He looked at the small splash of brandy in the glass and poured it out to drink himself. "Congratulations, then. I did tell their little inquisition squad not to believe your father's lies, but that might convince them."

Marcus' grip on his glass was white knuckled. "What are you going on about?"

Draco downed the glass and sat down across from Marcus and Katie. "Potter killed the Dark Lord. There was a commotion outside the castle, I wasn't there for the first part of it. But the Dark Lord thought he killed Potter, and my mother lied to him to protect Potter. That's the only reason why we're still here and not locked away. Your father killed a few Order members, and apparently they were really important. He got snatched up first thing." Draco paused a moment to let it sink in. "The first thing he said when he was asked to name other Death Eaters was that you should be picked up."

"I see."

Shaking his head, Draco held up a hand. "It's worse. He said you'd kidnapped Katie there, that you'd tortured her for months and put up a sham wedding to throw everyone off track." He gave a mirthless laugh. "I know you don't think much of my father, and I don't myself anymore, but that's worse than anything my father's ever done."

Marcus carefully put down the glass he was holding. Katie was very still beside him, her hands unconsciously covering her stomach, which was only starting to round. "They didn't come for us," Marcus said slowly.

"I was there when he started saying that. I told them flat out that it was impossible. You'd been after her for months before the wedding, since at least the end of last summer." At Marcus' start, he smiled thinly. "You mentioned her specifically while going through the Directory. You did tell me to start noticing things, if you remember. And you would always stare at those photos in the quidditch trophy cases when you visited at school. You didn't talk about it, but Bell was on your mind." He looked over at Katie's frozen features. "Sorry. Mrs. Flint now, I suppose." Draco poured Marcus another drink. "And my mother talked to them. About feelings and some rot like that, so they didn't come after you on your honeymoon."

"I suppose I should thank you," Marcus said stiffly, reaching for the refilled glass.

"Not yet," Draco murmured, leaning back in his chair a bit. "I told them about the dungeons."

Marcus let his eyes slide shut as the breath left his lungs. "You told them."

"They were going through your Manor and were going to destroy the place..."

"They wouldn't have known. They _couldn't_ have known. They're fucking Unplottable."

"I took them down."

Marcus' eyes flew open as he leapt to his feet and towered over Draco. "You did _what?"_

"I took them where he killed that Ravenclaw in my basement and I took them to those cells in your dungeons where he left those muggles to rot," Draco said, voice tight and every syllable firmly pronounced. "The bastard would be Kissed if they still had Dementors. They might've been muggles, but what he does is _inhuman."_ Draco stood and met Marcus' gaze. "Even Bella wasn't that cruel, admit it."

It took a moment for that to sink in. "Wasn't?"

"She's dead. So are a lot of others." Draco's tone was defeated, and he sank back down in his chair. "Look, I'm sorry, Marcus. I'm not sorry I told them, but I'm sorry because the bastard's still your father even if he's trying to get you killed now."

Marcus sat back down and held out his glass for more brandy. "What else is in store for us?"

"I could leave, if that would make it easier," Katie offered in the awkward pause.

Draco sighed. "They'll want to talk to you, too. See how much you knew about what that bastard was doing, prove he's a lying snake, I don't know. They set up a whole new branch of Ministry just to deal with former Death Eaters." His lip curled in distaste. "They determine how much to fine you by how much they hate you, how much publicity it would be to have your money. I actually owe our freedom to Potter, can you believe it?"

Katie took in the disdain and self hatred on Draco's face. She looked at Marcus' impassive one, though the tight muscles around his jaw were telling enough. "We should go to the Ministry, then, get it all over with."

Marcus looked at her in concern. "Are you sure you'll be all right?"

She didn't know if he was worried about her health, her state of mind or if she would implicate him further than his father had. "I can handle this."

She had never been to that part of the Ministry, but all of the corridors and doors looked alike after a while. It didn't matter who was in charge of the Office of Reintegration Affairs; it was cold and impersonal as everything else in the Ministry. They announced themselves and were immediately separated; Marcus stoically went to where he was led, and Katie was brought to an office with a plain table, two chairs and a wall of glass windows. It felt as though she was being interrogated, as if she was on trial for doing something wrong.

_I got caught. But you never found me, never looked, and I had to take care of myself,_ she thought, jaw tightening as she looked at the empty chair across from her. Katie couldn't tell who she was angriest with at that moment.

She didn't recognize the man coming in to speak with her. The name wasn't familiar either. He was full of questions she didn't want to answer, full of snide remarks that made her angry. Katie kept her mouth shut and her head down for a moment, feeling his growing irritation wash over her. She'd lived through worse. She'd survived harsher treatment, braved out fear so cloying and thick she choked on it. This man didn't know anything about her, didn't know anything about what evils lurked during the war. He wanted a pound of flesh out of Marcus' side and wanted to use her to do it. Whatever else she felt about Marcus, about herself and about what happened, she wasn't going to tell _anyone_ about it and she wasn't about to let herself be used like that ever again.

"I'm not talking about where I've been," Katie said abruptly, cutting him off and finally looking up. "I survived and I'm not talking about it. You don't need to know a bloody thing."

Irritated, the man stood up at his full height. He was nearly as tall as Marcus, but not as stocky and not nearly as intimidating. "You went missing while doing a scouting mission for the Order, Miss Bell..."

"I went out," Katie said through grit teeth. "It was easy enough to figure out where I was going, if either twin could rub two brain cells together."

"There's only George now," the officious Ministry official told her in a bland voice, "and he couldn't figure it out."

"And I was obviously such a high priority missing persons case," Katie replied, voice snide, her lip curling into a sneer. "I obviously mattered oh so much to the Order." She pushed herself to her feet. Her shirt was tight around the middle, and his eyes went to the slight bulge there. She could tell he wanted to ask, that he wondered what it meant. "I was written off as dead, and I knew that. Don't pretend there was anything else to it. Don't pretend any of you care what happened to me while I was gone. It doesn't matter, and I'm not discussing it with you," she said, her voice sharp and angry and not quite sounding like hers. It was as if all the months of pent up anger were being pushed at this nameless man.

Katie backed up, the chair falling to the floor behind her. The man startled at the sound of it, and reached out. "Now see here, Miss Bell..."

_"Don't touch me!"_ she snarled, her voice so vicious that the man faltered and even took a step back away from her. "And I'm married now," she added in clipped tones.

"Aurelius Flint leveled serious accusations at his son..."

Katie turned and went to the office door. "We're done talking now."

He wasn't fast enough to stop her from stamping outside, her displeasure etched across her features. Marcus was seated outside with a stony expression. He leapt to his feet at the sight of her. "Katie? Are you all right? Did they upset you?"

There wasn't any ulterior motive in his expression, no hidden meaning in his words. For some reason she knew that, just as she knew that she could have thrown him to the wolves. She could have leveled serious charges against him, could have said anything without needing to go into details about her capture and torture. She knew that, and knew it wouldn't have broken the contract she had signed. He had never insisted that she keep it a secret, and had always given her the option to discuss it if need be.

But he was right. She was tied to him, if only because she _didn't_ want to talk about it, and with him she would never need to. She didn't have nightmares the same way anymore, didn't flinch from him. She didn't hate him as deeply as she had at first, didn't hate herself the same way she used to. The entire situation made her feel numb and cold in places, like her heart was caged inside of her chest and would never be let loose.

"I'll be fine," she said in clipped tones, not bothering to rearrange her features into a semblance of calm. "They need to stop asking stupid questions."

Marcus couldn't help but smile at her tone. "You need to stay calm, Princess."

Katie glared at him. "Sod off, Flint," she said, shaking off the steadying hand on her arm. It was his fault she was in this mess, his fault her feelings were these tangled, knotted things she hardly recognized anymore. She thought she knew how everything worked before last summer, and he had ruined everything.

The officious Ministry employee was back. "Is he bothering you?" He sounded almost hopeful, and it grated on her nerves. No one helped when she needed it, but now that she was safe and sound they were falling over themselves to do something to help her.

Katie leveled her fierce glare at the employee. "You want to do something? You want to find out something useful? Go ask my father-in-law if he killed his wife." She felt Marcus go impossibly still next to her. It cooled her anger just a fraction.

"Katie, don't," Marcus intoned. He didn't touch her, didn't say anything else.

The Ministry official looked at her in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Marcus thinks his father killed his mother," Katie said, looking at him. He seemed just as stoic as ever, but she knew him better by now and caught the flash of pain in Marcus' expression. She reached out and grasped his hand tightly in hers. "That's worth knowing for certain, isn't it?"

"No, it's not," he told her heavily. "He made that clear early on."

Katie set her jaw and turned to the Ministry official. "Then it's worth knowing. He's a nasty, horrid man that did terrible things. Trying to pin some of them on Marcus is despicable." She could practically feel Marcus' surprise at her words, and she clamped her lips shut. She had no idea what the hell she was doing or why.

But the Flint vaults and properties were released from Ministry control. Marcus had to pay a hefty fine to the Ministry of Finance, another odious little man that seemed to drool at the thought of the galleons about to enter Ministry coffers.

"You could have said something," Marcus murmured, standing beside Katie in the massive grand gallery of Flint Manor. It was her first time standing in the awe-inspiring front entrance, her first time walking in of her own free will.

"Maybe," Katie agreed. They both knew she wouldn't have discussed the torture in the dungeons, but she could have told the Ministry about the months she had been missing. She could have lied and said anything else but what had really happened.

She could have, but didn't. Neither knew what that meant.

"I'm glad you didn't," Marcus told her. It wasn't that she had kept him from Azkaban, though that was good, too. His hand slid down to cover the curve of her belly. "I want to be there."

"Maybe that's why I didn't tell them," Katie murmured. "Or maybe because they were all horrible assholes that didn't care what had happened to me."

His smile was crooked and almost tender as he looked at her. "So the future isn't as horrible as I thought it was going to be."

"We still have a contract," Katie replied slowly. She didn't understand that expression on his face, the way he looked at her almost in wonder. He didn't love her, couldn't possibly. And she didn't love him back, couldn't, had promised herself that she wouldn't.

"Yes, we do," he murmured, brushing her hair from her shoulders. "And your birthday to celebrate soon."

"It might not be much of a celebration anymore," Katie commented. "Some of your friends are dead or in Azkaban. And we'd have to celebrate some of my friends. They'll hate you on sight."

"Then they might not come," he said with a negligent shrug. "No loss for me."

Katie found herself smiling at him in spite of herself. _What is this?_ she wanted to ask him, _What am I to you? What are we doing?_

Marcus wrapped his arms around her, his head tucked down on top of hers. He was protective of her, of their child. Their future was tenuous, and he wasn't sure what their place would be. "We'll figure something out. For your birthday, for the child, for everything."

It might not have been love, not the way she had always thought love had to be, but it was as savage and strong as love. Katie understood it, and what she had gotten herself into. For good or ill, they were together.

 

The End.


End file.
